)rnia 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Out  of  Doors 
California  and  Oregon 


T//E  ALT/JOR 


Out  of  Doors 
California  and  Oregon 

By 
J.  A.  Graves 

Profusely  Illustrated 


Los  Angeles 

Grafton  Publishing  Co. 

1912 


Copyright 

Grafton  Publishing  Company 

1912 


PRESS  OF  THE  WEST  COAST  MAGAZINE 
LOS  ANGELES,   CALIFORIA 


FU1 


'O 


CONTENTS 

Subject 

A  Motor  Trip  in  San  Diego's  Back  Country 

A  Hunting  Trip  in  the  Long  Ago 

Professor   Lo,    Philosopher        .... 

A  Great  Day's  Sport  on  Warner's  Ranch 

Boyhood  Days  in  Early  California     . 

Last  Quail  Shoot  of  the  Year  1911     .      . 

An  Auto  Trip  Through  the  Sierras 


Page 
1 

15 

28 
42 
53 
71 
80 


LIBRARY 


J,  o  the  memory  of  my  sons 

Selwyn  Emmett  Graves 

and 

Jackson  A.  Graves,  Jr. 

Both  of  whom  were  nature  lovers,  this  book 
is  lovingly  dedicated. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

J.   A.   Graves Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Mount  Pitt 1 

Cuyamaca  Lake,  Near  Pine  Hills 13 

El  Cajon  Valley,  San  Diego  County,   from  Schumann- 

Heink  Point,  Grossmont 13 

In  San  Diego  County 15 

San  Diego  Mountain  Scene 15 

Pern  Brake,  Palomar  Mountain 18 

The  Margarita  Ranch  House 18 

San  Diego  and  Coronado  Islands  from  Grossmont     .      .  20 

Grade  on  Palomar  Mountain 20 

Pelican  Bay,  Klamath  Lake 29 

On  Klamath  River 31 

Klamath  Lake  and  Link  River 33 

Spring    Creek 34 

Wood  River,  Oregon 36 

The    Killican 39 

Williamson  River 40 

Scorpion  Harbor,  Santa  Cruz  Island 56 

Smugglers'  Cove,  San  Clemente  Island 61 

Arch  Rock,  Santa  Cruz  Island 68 

Cueva  Valdez,  Santa  Cruz  Island 68 

Lily  Rock,  Idyllwild 71 

[vii] 


ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 

PAGE 

The  Entrance  and  Mission  Arches,  Glenwood  Mission 

Inn,  Riverside 75 

Magnolia    Avenue     and     Government     Indian     School, 

Riverside 75 

Hemet  Valley  from  Foothills  on  the  South       ...  79 

Ferris  Valley  Grain  Field 79 

Orange  Groves  Looking  Southeast  Across  Hemet  Valley, 

California 82 

View  from   Serra  Memorial   Cross,   Huntington   Drive, 

Rubidoux  Mountain,  Riverside 82 

Some  Barley 86 

Victoria  Avenue,  Riverside 86 

A    Rocky    Steam 93 

Fern  Brakes  Four  Feet  in  Height  at  Pine  Hills     .      .  100 

California  White  Oak 100 

Another  View  of  Spring  Creek 107 

Harvesting  in  San  Joaquin  Valley Ill 

Nevada  Falls  from  Glacier 114 

Nevada  Falls,  Close  Range 114 

Point  Upper  Yosemite 114 

Yosemite  Falls 114 

Cedar  Creek  at  Pine  Hills 118 

Scene  Near  Pine  Hills  Lodge 118 


[viii] 


MOUNT   PITT 


A  MOTOR  TRIP  IN  SAN  DIEGO'S 
BACK  COUNTRY. 

Come,  you  men  and  women  automobilists, 
get  off  the  paved  streets  of  Los  Angeles  and 
betake  yourselves  to  the  back  country  of  San 
Diego  county,  where  you  can  enjoy  automo- 
bile life  to  the  utmost  during  the  summer. 
There  drink  in  the  pure  air  of  the  mountains, 
perfumed  with  the  breath  of  pines  and 
cedars,  the  wild  lilacs,  the  sweet-pea  vines, 
and  a  thousand  aromatic  shrubs  and  plants 
that  render  every  hillside  ever  green  from 
base  to  summit.  Lay  aside  the  follies  of  so- 
cial conditions,  and  get  back  to  nature,  pure 
and  unadorned,  except  with  nature 's  charms 
and  graces. 

To  get  in  touch  with  these  conditions,  take 
your  machines  as  best  you  can  over  any  of 
the  miserable  roads,  or  rather  apologies  for 
roads,  until  you  get  out  into  the  highway 
recently  constructed  from  Basset  to  Pomo- 
na. Run  into  Pomona  to  Gary  avenue,  turn 
to  the  right  and  follow  it  to  the  Chino  ranch ; 
follow   the  winding    roads,  circling  to    the 

[1] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

Chino  hills,  to  Rincon,  then  on,  over  fairly 
good  roads,  to  Corona.  Pass  through  that 
city,  then  down  the  beautiful  Temescal  Can- 
yon to  Elsinore.  Move  on  through  Murri- 
etta  to  Temecula. 

THREE  ROUTES. 

Beyond  Temecula  three  routes  are  open 
to  you.  By  one  of  them  you  keep  to  the 
left,  over  winding  roads  full  of  interest  and 
beauty,  through  a  great  oak  grove  at  the 
eastern  base  of  Mt.  Palomar.  Still  proceed- 
ing through  a  forest  of  scattering  oaks,  you 
presently  reach  Warner's  ranch  through  a 
gate.  Be  sure  and  close  all  gates  opened  by 
you.  Only  vandals  leave  gates  open  when 
they  should  be  closed. 

Warner's  ranch  is  a  vast  meadow,  mostly 
level,  but  sloping  from  northeast  to  south- 
west, with  rolling  hills  and  sunken  valleys 
around  its  eastern  edge.  A  chain  of  moun- 
tains, steep  and  timber-laden,  almost  en- 
circles the  ranch.  For  a  boundary  mark  on 
the  northeastern  side  of  the  ranch,  are  steep, 
rocky  and  forbidding  looking  mountains. 
Beyond  them,  the  desert.  The  ranch  com- 
prises some  57,000  acres,  nearly  all  valley 
land.    It  is  well  watered,  filled  with  lakes, 

[2] 


SAN     DIEGO 'S     BACK     COUNTRY 

springs,  meadows  and  running  streams,  all 
draining  to  its  lowest  point,  and  forming  the 
head  waters  of  the  San  Luis  Rey  River. 

You  follow  the  road  by  which  you  enter 
the  ranch,  to  the  left,  and  in  a  few  miles' 
travel  you  bring  up  at  Warner's  Hot 
Springs,  a  resort  famed  for  many  years  for 
the  curative  properties  of  its  waters.  The 
springs  are  now  in  charge  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Stanford,  and  are  kept  in  an  admirable 
manner,  considering  all  of  the  difficulties 
they  labor  under.  The  run  from  Los  An- 
geles to  the  springs  is  about  140  miles,  and 
can  be  made  easily  in  a  day.  Once  there,  the 
choice  of  many  interesting  trips  is  open  to 
you. 

PAST  TEMECULA. 

After  leaving  Temecula,  another  road 
much  frequented  by  the  autoists  is  the  right- 
hand  road  by  the  Red  Mountain  grade  to 
Fallbrook,  either  to  Del  Mar,  by  way  of 
Oceanside,  or  into  the  Escondido  Valley  by 
way  of  Bonsai,  Vista  and  San  Marcos.  The 
third  route,  the  center  one  between  those  I 
have  described,  leads  to  Pala.  With  a  party 
of  five  in  a  six-cylinder  Franklin  car,  I  went 
over  the  latter  route  on  April  20th,  1911. 

[3] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

Every  inch  of  the  road  was  full  of  interest. 
We  passed  through  Pala,  with  its  ancient 
mission  of  that  name,  and  its  horde  of  Indian 
inhabitants.  The  children  of  the  Indian 
school  were  having  a  recess,  and  they  carried 
on  just  about  in  the  same  manner  that  so 
many  ''pale-faced"  children  would.  Leav- 
ing Pala,  we  followed  the  main  road  along 
the  left  bank  of  the  San  Luis  Eey  River — 
where  the  San  Diego  Highway  Conmiission 
is  now  doing  work,  which  will,  when  finished, 
bring  one  to  Warner's  ranch  by  an  easy 
grade — ^until  we  had  gotten  a  few  miles  into 
the  Pauma  rancho.  We  crossed  the  Pauma 
Creek,  and  some  distance  beyond  it  we  left 
the  river  to  our  right,  turned  sharply  to  the 
left,  and  ran  up  to  the  base  of  Smith's,  or 
Palomar  Mountain.  Then  came  the  grade 
up  the  mountain. 

If  you  are  not  stout-hearted,  and  haven't 
a  powerful  machine,  avoid  this  beautiful 
drive.  If  you  are  not  driving  an  air-cooled 
car,  carry  extra  water  with  you.  You  will 
need  it  before  you  reach  the  top.  The  road 
is  a  narrow  zigzag,  making  an  ascent  of  4000 
feet  in  a  distance  of  from  ten  to  twelve  miles 
of  switch-backing  around  the  face  of  a  steep 
rock-ribbed  mountain.     To  add  to  its  diffi- 

[4] 


SAN     DIEGO  S     BACK     COUNTRY 

culties,  the  turns  are  so  short  that  a  long 
car  is  compelled  to  back  up  to  negotiate 
them.  About  an  hour  and  a  quarter  is  re- 
quired to  make  the  trip  up  the  mountain. 
We  did  all  of  it  on  low  gear.  When  the  top 
is  finally  reached,  the  view  of  the  surround- 
ing country  is  simply  beyond  description. 

BELATED  SPRING. 

The  mountain  oaks  of  great  size  and  broad 
of  bough,  were  not  yet  fully  in  leaf.  Pines 
and  cedars,  and  to  my  astonishment,  many 
large  sycamores,  were  mingled  with  the  oaks. 
A  gladsome  crop  of  luscious  grasses  covered 
the  earth.  Shrubs  and  plants  were  bursting 
into  bloom.  As  we  moved  on  we  saw  several 
wild  pigeons  in  graceful  flight  among  the 
trees.  After  traveling  the  backbone  of  the 
mountain  for  some  distance  we  came  to  a 
dimly  marked  trail,  leading  to  the  left.  The 
''Major  Domo"  of  our  party  said  that  this 
road  led  to  Doane  's  Valley,  and  that  we  must 
go  down  it.  It  was  a  straight  up  and  down 
road,  with  exceedingly  abrupt  pitches,  in 
places  damp  and  slippery,  and  covered  with 
fallen  leaves.  At  the  bottom  of  the  descent, 
which  it  Avould  have  been  impossible  to  re- 
trace, we  came  to  a  small  stream.    Directly 

[5] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

in  the  only  place  where  we  could  have  crossed 
it  a  log  stuck  up,  which  rendered  passage 
impossible.  After  a  deal  of  prodding  and 
hauling,  we  dislodged  it  and  safely  made 
the  ford. 

Doane's  Valley  is  one  of  those  beauty 
spots  which  abound  in  the  mountains  of  Cali- 
fornia. Its  floor  is  a  beautiful  meadow,  in 
which  are  innumerable  springs.  Surround- 
ing this  meadow  is  heavy  timber,  oaks,  pines 
and  giant  cedars.  Pauma  Creek  flows  out 
of  this  meadow  through  a  narrow  gorge, 
which  nature  evidently  intended  should  some 
day  be  closed  with  a  dam  to  make  of  the  val- 
ley a  reservoir  to  conserve  the  winter  waters. 
We  followed  a  partially  destroyed  road 
through  the  meadow  to  its  upper  end.  Then 
as  high  and  dry  land  was  within  sight  we 
attempted  to  cross  a  small,  damp,  but  uncer- 
tain looking  waterway. 

WHEELS  STUCK. 

The  front  wheels  passed  safely,  but  when 
the  rear  wheels  struck  it  they  went  into  the 
mud  until  springs  and  axles  rested  on  the 
ground.  Two  full  hours  we  labored  before 
we  left  that  mud  hole.  We  gathered  up 
timbers  and  old  bridge  material,  then  jacked 

[6] 


SAN     DIEGO 'S     BACK     COUNTRY 

up  one  wheel  a  little  way,  and  got  something 
under  it  to  hold  it  there.  The  other  side  was 
treated  the  same  way.  By  repeating  the 
operation  many  times  we  got  the  wheels 
high  enough  to  run  some  timbers  crosswise 
beneath  them.  We  put  other  timbers  in 
front  and  pulled  out. 

We  soon  reached  Bailey's  Hotel,  a  sum- 
mer resort  of  considerable  popularity.  We 
continued  up  the  grade  until  we  came  onto 
the  main  road  left  by  us  when  we  descended 
into  Doane  's  Valley.  We  got  up  many  more 
pigeons,  graceful  birds,  which  the  Legisla- 
ture of  our  State  should  protect  before  they 
are  exterminated.  We  moved  on  through 
heavily  timber-covered  hills,  up  and  down 
grade,  and  finally  came  out  on  the  south  side 
of  the  mountain  overlooking  the  canyon, 
some  5000  feet  deep,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
ran  the  San  Luis  Eey  River.  What  would 
have  been  a  most  beautiful  scene  was  marred 
by  a  fog  which  had  drifted  up  the  canyon. 
But  the  cloud  effect  was  marvelous.  We 
were  above  the  clouds.  A  more  perfect  sky 
no  human  being  ever  saw.  The  clouds,  or 
fog  banks,  were  so  heavy  that  it  looked  as 
if  we  could  have  walli:ed  off  into  them.  I 
never  saw  similar  cloud  effects  any^^here  else 

["7] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

except  from  Mt.   Lowe,  near  Los  Angeles, 
and  Mt.  Tamalpais,  in  Marin  County. 

Warner's  ranch. 

We  now  began  our  descent  to  Warner's 
Ranch.  It  was  gradual  enough  for  some 
distance,  and  the  road  and  trees  were  as 
charming  as  any  human  being  could  desire. 
Finally  we  came  out  onto  a  point  overlook- 
ing the  ranch.  The  view  was  simply  en- 
trancing. Lnagine  a  vast  amphitheater  of 
57,000  acres,  surrounded  by  hills,  dotted  here 
and  there  with  lakes,  with  streams  of  water 
like  threads  of  burnished  silver  glittering  in 
the  evening  light,  softened  by  the  clouds 
hanging  over  the  San  Luis  Rey  River. 
There  were  no  clouds  on  the  ranch;  they 
stopped  abruptly  at  the  southwest  corner. 
This  vast  meadow  was  an  emerald  green, 
studded  with  brilliant  colored  flowers.  Vast 
herds  of  cattle  were  peacefully  completing 
their  evening  meal.  The  road  down  to  the 
ranch  follows  a  ridge,  which  is  so  steep  that 
no  machine  has  ever  been  able  to  ascend  it. 
I  held  my  breath  and  trusted  to  the  good  old 
car  that  has  done  so  much  for  my  comfort, 
safety  and  amusement.  We  w^ere  all  glad 
when  the  bottom  was  reached.    We  forded 

[8] 


SAN     DIEGO  S     BACK     COUNTRY 

the  river  and  whirled  away  to  Warner's  Hot 
Springs,  over  good  meadow  roads,  arriving 
there  before  7  o'clock  p.  m. 

Some  day  these  springs  are  going  to  be  ap- 
preciated. Now  only  hardy  travelers,  as  a 
rule,  go  there.  Their  medicinal  qualities  will 
in  time  be  realized,  and  the  people  of  South- 
ern California  will  find  that  they  have  a 
Carlsbad  within  a  short  distance  of  Los  An- 
geles, in  San  Diego  County.  We  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  tired,  weary  tourist  that  night. 

HOT  BATHS. 

The  following  day  we  passed  in  bathing  in 
the  hot  mineral  waters,  sightseeing  and  driv- 
ing around  the  valley. 

Saturday  morning  at  7 :30  o  'clock  we  bade 
adieu  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stanford  and  left  the 
ranch  by  way  of  the  Eancho  Santa  Isabel. 
The  rain  god  must  have  been  particularly 
partial  to  this  beautiful  ranch  this  season. 
Nowhere  on  our  trip  did  we  see  such  a  splen- 
did growth  of  grass  and  flowers,  such  happy 
looking  livestock,  such  an  air  of  plenty  and 
prosperity  as  we  did  here.  Leaving  the 
ranch  at  the  Santa  Isabel  store,  we  took  the 
Julian  road,  which  place  we  reached  after  a 
few  hours'  riding  over  winding  roads  good 

[9] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

to  travel  on,  and  through  scenery  which  was 
a  constant  source  of  enjoyment.  Julian  is 
one  of  the  early  settlements  of  San  Diego 
County.  Mining  has  been  carried  on  there 
with  varying  successes  and  disappointments 
these  many  years.  Now  apple  raising  is  its 
great  industry.  The  hillsides  are  given  over 
to  apple  culture. 

The  trees  are  now  laden  with  blossoms. 
As  we  topped  a  hill  or  crossed  a  divide  be- 
fore beginning  an  ascent  or  descent,  the  view 
backward  of  the  apple  orchards,  peeping  up 
over  slight  elevations  in  the  clearings,  was 
extremely  beautiful.  Leaving  Julian,  we 
whirled  along  over  splendid  roads  through  a 
rolling  country,  given  over  to  fruit  farming, 
stock  raising  and  pasturage.  We  next 
reached  Cuyamaca  and  visited  the  dam  of 
that  name,  which  impounds  the  winter  rains 
for  the  San  Diego  Flume  Company.  The 
country  around  the  lake  showed  a  deficiency 
of  rainfall. 

The  lake  was  far  from  full.  We  took  our 
lunch  at  the  clubhouse  near  the  dam.  After 
resting  in  the  shade  of  the  friendly  oaks  we 
then  pursued  our  journey  to  Descanso.  We 
passed  through  Alpine  and  finally  entered 
the  El  Cajon  Valley,  famed  far  and  wide  for 
[10] 


SAN     DIEGO 'S     BACK     COUNTRY 

its  muscatel  grapes,  which  seem  especially 
adapted  to  its  dark  red  soil.  The  vines  were 
in  early  leaf,  and  not  as  pleasing  to  the  eye 
as  they  will  be  when  in  full  bloom.  Then 
came  Bostonia,  a  comparatively  new  settle- 
ment, Rosamond,  La  Mesa,  and  finally  we 
whirled  off  on  a  splendid  road,  through  an 
unsettled  country  overgrown  with  sage  and 
shrubs,  to  Del  Mar. 

The  sky  was  overcast  all  the  afternoon.  A 
stiff  ocean  breeze  blew  inland,  cool  and  re- 
freshing. The  entire  day  had  been  spent 
amid  scenes  of  rare  beauty.  The  wild  flow- 
ers are  not  yet  out  in  profusion,  but  enough 
were  there  to  give  the  traveler  an  idea  of 
what  can  be  expected  in  floral  offerings  later 
in  the  season.  It  was  early  Spring  wherever 
the  elevation  was  3500  feet  or  better.  The 
oaks  were  not  yet  in  leaf,  the  sycamores  just 
out  in  their  new  spring  dresses,  the  wild  pea 
blossoms  just  beginning  to  open  and  cast 
their  fragrance  to  the  breezes. 

FAR  BELOW. 

Yellow  buttercups  adorned  the  warmer 
spots  in  each  sunny  valley.  Way  below  us 
in  the  open  country  great  fields  of  poppies 
greeted  the  gladdened  eye.     The  freshness 

[11]' 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

of  spring  was  in  the  air.  Each  breath  we 
inhaled  was  full  of  new  life.  The  odor  of 
the  pines  mingled  its  fragrance  with  that  of 
the  apple  blossoms. 

Del  Mar  is  the  Del  Monte  of  Southern  Cal- 
ifornia. We  arrived  at  Stratford  Inn,  at 
that  place,  which  is  as  well  furnished  and  as 
well  kept  as  any  hotel  on  the  Coast.  A  small 
garden,  an  adjunct  of  the  hotel,  shows  what 
the  soil  and  climate  of  Del  Mar  is  capable  of 
producing.  Tomato  vines  are  never  frosted. 
The  vegetables  from  the  garden  have  a 
fresher,  crisper  taste  than  those  grown  in  a 
drier  atmosphere.  How  good  and  comfort- 
able the  bed  felt  to  us  that  night !  Sleep  came, 
leaving  the  body  inert  and  lifeless  in  one  po- 
sition for  hours  at  a  time.  The  open  air,  the 
sunshine,  the  long  ride,  the  ever  changing 
scenery,  brought  one  joyous  slumber,  such  as 
a  health}^  happy,  tired  child  enjoys. 

The  next  morning,  after  an  ample,  well- 
cooked  and  well-served  breakfast,  we  took 
the  road  on  the  last  leg  of  our  journey.  Over 
miles  and  miles  of  newmade  roads  we  sped. 
Soon  the  long  detour  up  the  San  Luis  Rey 
Valley  will  be  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  new 
county  highway  will  pursue  a  much  more 
direct  course.  We  passed  through  miles  of 
[12] 


CXTYAMACA       LAKE,      NEAR     PINE     HILLS 


EL    CAJON    VALLEY,    SAN    DIEGO,    FROM    SCHUMAN  N-H  E  I  N  K 
POINT.    GROSSMONT. 


SAN     DIEGO 'S     BACK     COUNTRY 

land  being  prepared  for  bean  culture.  Miles 
of  hay  and  grain,  miles  of  pasturage,  in 
which  sleek  cattle  grazed  peacefully,  or,  hav- 
ing fed  their  fill,  lay  upon  the  rich  grasses 
and  enjoyed  life.  Near  the  coast  the  growth 
of  grain  and  grass  far  surpasses  that  of  the 
interior. 

Santa  Marguerita  Rancho,  with  its  bound- 
less expanse  of  grass-covered  pasturage 
lands,  its  thousands  of  head  of  cattle  and 
horses,  its  thousands  of  acres  of  bean  lands, 
read}^  for  seed,  is  worth  going  miles  to  see. 

At  noon  we  reached  San  Juan  Oapistrano. 
We  drove  into  the  grounds  of  the  hospitable 
Judge  Egan.  At  a  table,  beneath  the  grate- 
ful shade  of  giant  trees,  amid  the  perfmne 
of  flowers,  the  sweet  songs  of  happy  birds, 
we  ate  our  lunch.  After  a  short  rest  we  took 
up  the  run  again.  We  passed  El  Toro  and 
finally  came  onto  the  great  San  Joaquin 
ranch,  every  acre  of  which  is  now  highly  cul- 
tivated. 

Then  came  the  Santa  Ana  region,  thickly 
settled,  rich  in  soil  and  products.  We  passed 
through  beautiful  and  enterprising  Santa 
Ana,  through  miles  upon  miles  of  walnut, 
orange  and  other  fruit  groves,  through  a 
solid  settlement  extending  far  on  each  side 
[13] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

of  the  road,  to  Anaheim.  And  still  on 
tlirono-h  more  walnut  and  orange  groves, 
more  wealth-i)ro(lucing  crops. 

Through  the  orange  and  lemon  and  walnut 
groves  of  Fullerton,  extending  to  and  form- 
ing a  large  part  of  Whittier,  I  could  not  help 
exclaiming  to  mj^self,  "What  an  empire  this 
is !  Where  is  the  country  that  yields  the  an- 
nual returns  per  acre  that  this  land  does?" 
At  Whittier  we  got  into  one  of  the  newly 
constructed  county  highways,  and  at  3:30 
p.  m.  we  were  home  again,  after  four  days 
in  the  open,  four  days  of  pure  and  unadul- 
terated happiness. 


[14] 


'/■  »-'5|;'.trtr; 


! N     SAX      DIEGO     COUNTY 


SAN    DIEGO    MOUN'JAIN    SCENE 


A  HUNTING  TRIP  IN  THE  LONG  AGO 

One  of  the  disadvantages  of  old  age,  even 
advancing  years,  is  the  pleasure  we  lose  in 
anticipating  future  events.  Enthusiastic 
youth  derives  more  pleasure  in  planning  a 
journey,  an  outing  or  a  social  gathering  than 
can  possibly  be  realized  from  any  human 
experience.  With  what  pleasure  the  young 
set  out,  getting  ready  for  a  hunting  trip,  or 
an  excursion  to  some  remote  locality  never 
visited  by  them ! 

From  the  first  day  I  arrived  in  Los  An- 
geles, I  had  heard  of  the  Fort  Tejon  and 
the  Rancho  La  Liebre  country  as  a  hunting 
paradise,  extolled  by  all  people  I  met,  who 
were  given  to  spending  an  occasional  week 
or  two  in  the  mountains  in  search  of  game. 
In  consequence  of  what  I  had  heard  of  this 
region,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  there  the 
first  time  I  got  an  opportunity. 

Among   the  first    acquaintances  I    made 

here  was  a  dear  old  man  named  A.  C.  Chau- 

vin,    formerly    of  St.    Louis,  ]\Io.,  and    of 

French  descent.    He  had  spent  many  years 

[15] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

ill  the  Xurtliwest,  liiuitiiig  and  trapping.  He 
was  an  excellent  shot  with  both  rifle  and 
shotgun.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he 
was  slightly  afflicted  with  a  nervous  disorder 
akin  to  palsy,  which  kept  his  left  arm  and 
hand,  when  not  in  use,  constantly  shaking, 
the  moment  he  drew  up  his  gun,  his  nerves 
were  steady,  and  his  aim  perfect.  He  de- 
spised the  modern  breech-loading  rifle,  and 
insisted  on  shooting  an  old-fashioned, 
muzzle-loading,  single-barrel  rifle,  made  by 
a  fellow^  townsman,  Henry  Slaughterbach. 
It  was  an  exceedingly  accurate  and  power- 
ful shooting  gun.  Chauvin  was  a  thorough 
hunter,  well  versed  in  woodcraft,  up  in  camp 
equipage  and  the  requirements  of  men  on 
a  two  or  three  weeks'  hunting  trip. 

OFF  IN  THE  DUST. 

During  tlie  summer  of  1876  I  had  been 
hard  at  work.  The  weather  had  been  hot  and 
trying.  In  the  latter  part  of  September, 
M  r.  (Jhauvin  proposed  that  I  go  with  him  on 
a  deer  liunt  to  the  Liebre  Eanch.  I  was 
practicing  law,  and  after  consulting  my 
partners,  I  eagerly  consented  to  accompany 
bin  I.  lie  made  all  the  preparations.  On  the 
'50th  of  September  he  started  a  two-horse 
wagon,  loaded  witli  most  of  our  outfit,  on 
[16] 


A     HUNTING     TRIP 

ahead,  in  charge  of  a  roustabout.  On  Oc- 
tober 2nd,  wc  followed  in  a  light  one-horse 
wagon,  taking  with  us  our  blankets,  a  few 
provisions  and  a  shotgun.  We  had  a  hard 
time  pulling  over  the  grade  beyond  San  Fer- 
nando, but  finally  made  it.  We  went  on  past 
Newhall,  and  camped  the  first  night  on  the 
bank  of  the  Santa  Clara  River. 

Without  the  slightest  trouble  we  killed, 
within  a  very  few  minutes,  enough  quail  for 
supper  and  breakfast.  After  we  had  fin- 
ished our  evening  meal,  quite  a  shower  came 
up  very  suddenly.  Just  enough  rain  fell  to 
make  things  sticky  and  disagreeable.  The 
clouds  vanished  and  left  as  beautiful  a  star- 
lit sky  as  any  human  being  ever  enjoyed. 
Our  wagon  had  a  piece  of  canvas  over  it, 
which  shed  the  rain,  and  left  the  ground 
beneath  the  wagon  dr}^  Upon  this  spot  we 
spread  our  blankets  and  went  to  sleep.  Next 
morning  the  sun  got  up,  hot,  red  and  ugly 
looking.  We  breakfasted,  hitched  up  and 
started  up  San  Francisquito  Canyon.  Chau- 
vin  remarked  we  were  in  for  a  hot  day,  and 
he  ]) roved  a  good  prophet.  There  wasn't  a 
breath  of  wind  stirring  as  the  day  pro- 
gressed. The  heat  fairly  sizzled.  A  goodly 
part  of  the  road  was  well  shaded.  We  were 
[17] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

loath  to  leave  the  shady  spots  when  we  came 
to  the  open  places.  To  lighten  our  load  we 
walked  most  of  the  way.  We  stopped  for 
lunch,  fed  and  rested  our  weary  animal,  and 
just  at  dark  after  a  weary  afternoon's  work 
we  reached  Elizabeth  Lake,  where  we  over- 
took the  other  wagon.  We  had  been  two 
I'ull  days  on  the  road.  I  have  made  the  same 
trip  in  an  automobile  two  summers  in  suc- 
cession, in  less  than  four  hours. 

IX  ANTELOPE  COUNTRY. 

On  leaving  Elizabeth  Lake  next  morning 
we  transferred  everything  of  any  weight 
from  our  wagon  to  the  larger  one,  which 
made  the  going  much  easier  for  our  animal. 
We  descended  the  hill  beyond  the  lake,  went 
up  the  valley  a  few  miles,  and  then  cut 
straight  across  to  a  point  near  where  Fair- 
mont is  now  situated.  Chauvin  said  he 
w  anted  to  get  an  antelope  before  going  after 
the  deer.  We  crossed  the  valley  into  some 
low,  rolling  hills  and  camped  on  a  small 
stream  called  Rock  Creek.  Chauvin  said 
til  is  was  a  great  place  for  antelope.  The 
horses  were  picketed  out  on  a  grassy  cienega, 
which  offered  them  pretty  good  feed.  We 
got  our  supper,  made  camp  and  went  to  bed. 
[18] 


FERN  BRAKE.  PALOMAR  MOUNTAIN 


THE  MARGARITA   RANCH   HOUSE 


A     HUNTING     TRIP 

During  the  niglit  a  wind  began  to  blow 
from  the  northwest,  and  in  a  few  hours  it 
had  become  a  hurricane.  Small  stones  were 
carried  by  it  like  grains  of  sand.  They 
would  pelt  us  on  the  head  as  we  lay  in  our 
blankets.  We  could  hear  the  stones  click- 
ing against  the  spokes  of  the  wagon  wheels. 
Great  clouds  of  dust  would  obscure  the  sky. 
By  morning  the  velocity  of  the  wind  was 
terrific.  Our  horses,  driven  frantic,  had 
broken  loose  and  disappeared.  We  could 
not  make  a  fire,  nor  if  we  had  had  one  could 
we  have  cooked  anything,  for  the  dirt  that 
filled  the  air.  For  breakfast  we  ate  such 
things  as  we  had  prepared.  The  roustabout 
started  off  trailing  the  horses.  Chauvin  and 
I  sat  around  under  a  bank,  blue  and  discon- 
solate. 

About  11  o'clock  we  saw  a  great  band  of 
antelope  going  to  water.  They  were  coming 
up  against  the  wind,  straight  to  us.  When 
fully  half  a  mile  away  they  scented  us  and 
started  off  in  a  circle  to  strike  the  creek 
above  us.  We  put  off  after  them,  following 
up  the  creek  bed.  They  beat  us  to  it,  watered 
and  started  back  to  their  feeding  ground, 
passing  us  in  easy  range.  We  shot  at  them, 
but  without  effect.  The  Avind  blew  so  hard 
[19] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

that  accurate  shooting  was  an  impossibility. 
We  went  back  to  camp.  Not  far  from  it  we 
f(»uii(l  (|nite  a  hole  mider  the  bank,  which 
the  winter  waters  had  bnrrowed  out.  It  af- 
forded slielter  enough  from  the  wind,  which 
was  still  l)lowing,  to  allow  us  to  build  a  fire 
of  di-y  sage  l)rush.  We  then  prepared  a 
good,  warm^meal,  which  we  ate  with  great 
I'clisli.  By  1  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the 
wind  began  to  abate,  and  it  died  away  almost 
as  suddenly  as  it  came  up.  It  left  the  atmos- 
j)here  dry  and  full  of  dust. 

GREAT  SIGHT. 

We  heard  nothing  from  the  man  who  had 
gone  after  the  horses.  About  3  o'clock 
Cliauvin  said  he  was  going  to  get  an  antelope 
or  knf)W  why.  He  argued  that  they  would 
))e  r-oming  to  water  soon.  He  told  me  to 
remain  near  the  camp.  He  went  up  the 
stream,  intending  to  get  above  the  point  at 
wliidi  file  animals  usually  watered.  He  had 
hccu  gone  a})out  an  hour,  when  I  saw  the 
dust  rise  toward  the  east — such  a  dust  as  a 
drove  of  sheep  in  motion  makes.  Pretty  soon 
the  advanr'c  guard  of  the  largest  band  of  an- 
telope I  ever  saw,  or  ever  hope  to  see  again, 
appeared  in  siglit.  As  they  scented  our 
[  20  ] 


SAN    DIEGO     AND    (    n  K  n   N"  A  D  0     IS!    A   X   H  >      I    K  0  M     G  R  0  S  S  M  0  N  T 


G  K   A  II  i:    0  N     P  A   I.  n  M   A  K     MOUNTAIN 


A     HUNTING     TRIP 

camp,  what  a  sight  they  made !  There  they 
stood,  out  of  range,  looking  to  the  point 
where  their  keen  noses  notified  them  that 
danger  lurked.  Then  they  would  wheel  and 
run,  stop  and  look  again.  The  white  spots 
on  their  rumps  shone  in  the  sunlight  like 
burnished  silver. 

They  would  stop,  look  awhile  and  again 
wheel  and  run.  Suspicious  and  anxious  they 
stood,  heads  up  and  nostrils  dilated,  sides 
heaving.  They  made  a  beautiful  picture 
of  excited  and  alarmed  curiosity.  Several 
times  they  advanced,  and  then  fell  back. 
Finality  they  whirled  away  and  headed  up 
stream.  In  a  few  minutes  I  heard  the  report 
of  Chauvin's  rifle,  followed  a  little  later  by 
another  shot.  Then  the  whole  band  ap- 
peared in  wild  disorder,  running  as  only 
frightened  antelopes  can  run,  in  the  direc- 
tion from  which  they  came.  Shortly  after- 
wards I  saw  Chauvin  on  a  little  knoll.  I 
waved  my  arms.  He  saw  me,  took  off  his 
hat  and  beckoned  for  me  to  join  him.  Off 
I  put,  as  fast  as  my  legs  could  carry  me. 
When  I  got  to  him,  I  found  he  had  killed 
two  antelope  bucks.  They  lay  within  400 
yards  of  each  other.  He  had  already  cut 
their  throats. 

[21] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

;\[ayhe  voii  think  wc  were  not  happy !  We 
drew  the  animals.  Chauvin  was  an  old  man, 
compactly  built,  but  very  strong.  He  helped 
me  shoulder  the  smaller  of  the  bucks,  and 
then  he,  with  the  greatest  ease,  picked  up  the 
other  one,  and  we  trudged  to  camp.  "We 
hung  our  game  up  on  a  couple  of  stunted 
stumps  and  skinned  them.  Then  we  pre- 
pared supper.  We  cooked  potatoes  and  rice, 
made  coffee,  and  cornbread,  and  fried  the 
antelope  livers  with  bacon.  Just  as  our 
meal  was  ready,  our  roustabout  came  into 
camp,  riding  one  of  the  horses  barebacked, 
with  only  a  halter  and  leading  the  other  two. 
He  had  had  his  hat  blown  away  and  was 
bareheaded.  He  was  nearly  frozen,  having 
started  off  in  the  morning  without  his  coat. 

HORSES  RECOVERED. 

He  trailed  the  horses,  which  were  travel- 
in  pj  before  the  wind,  for  twelve  miles.  For- 
tunately at  a  point  on  the  south  side  of  the 
valley,  they  entered  a  ravine,  in  which  there 
was  plenty  of  bunch  grass.  Here,  sheltered 
from  tlie  wind,  they  fed  up  the  ravine  a  mile 
or  so,  where  he  found  them  lying  down  in 
a  sheltered  spot  near  a  water  hole.  He  had. 
[22] 


A     HUNTING     TRIP 

had  nothing  to  eat  since  leaving  us.  Com- 
ing back  he  faced  the  wind  until  it  died 
away.  Hiding  a  horse  bareback,  with  a  hal- 
ter for  a  bridle,  and  leading  two  other  horses, 
you  can  well  imagine  was  no  picnic.  We  tied 
the  animals  to  some  willow  stumps,  so  there 
was  no  danger  of  their  getting  loose,  and 
gave  them  a  feed  of  barle}'.  By  this  tune  the 
roustabout  w^as  thawed  out  by  our  fire,  and 
we  had  supper. 

As  w^e  had  all  the  antelope  we  w^anted,  we 
made  our  plans  for  the  next  day.  Chauvin 
knew  the  country  thoroughly.  He  proposed 
that  the  next  morning  we  go  to  where  the 
horses  had  been  found,  and  proceed  up  that 
canyon  onto  the  Liebre  ranch  to  a  camping 
spot  he  knew  of.  He  was  certain  w^e  would 
find  deer  there.  At  peace  with  the  w^orld,  we 
went  to  bed  that  night  well  fed  and  content- 
ed. Next  morning  we  had  antelope  steak, 
right  out  of  the  loin,  for  breakfast.  I  never 
tasted  better  meat  but  once,  and  that  was  a 
moose  steak  served  us  one  morning  at  the 
Hotel  Frontenac  in  Quebec  a  few  years  ago. 

We  broke  camp  early.    About  noon  time 

we  had  crossed  the  valley  and  gained  our  new 

camp,  which  w^as  an  ideal  one.     There  was 

a  spring  of  hot  and  a  spring  of  cold  iron  and 

[23] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

sulphur  water  within  ten  feet  of  each  other, 
each  near  a  stream  of  cold,  clear  mountain 
water.  The  tirst  thing  we  did  was  to  take  a 
bath  in  the  hot  sulphur  water.  There  was 
quite  a  hole  in  which  it  boiled  up.  It  was 
almost  too  hot  for  comfort,  but  how  cleans- 
ing it  was!  It  took  all  of  the  sand  out  of 
our  hair  and  beard  and  eyes,  and  left  the 
skin  as  soft  as  satin.  After  our  hot  bath, 
we  cooled  off  in  the  stream  and  got  into  our 
clothes.  Refreshed  and  encouraged,  we  were 
extremely  happy. 

DEER  PLENTIFUL. 

Deer  tracks  were  very  plentiful.  We  fixed 
up  our  camp,  cut  up  our  antelope,  put  a  lot 
of  it  out  to  dry  or  "jerk,"  as  the  common 
expression  is,  and  then  about  an  hour  before 
sunset,  Chauvin  and  I  set  out  to  look  the 
country  over.  There  was  plenty  of  timber, 
pinons  and  other  pines,  and  oaks,  scrub  and 
large,  all  full  of  acorns,  upon  which  the  deer 
were  feeding.  Returning  from  camp,  not 
100  yards  from  it,  we  jumped  two  bucks. 
We  killed  both  of  them,  each  getting  one. 
Just  about  then,  we  began  to  think  things 
were  coming  our  way.  We  drew  the  deer, 
and  in  hanging  them  up  on  a  small  oak  tree, 
[24] 


A     HUNTING     TRIP 

I  pressed  a  yellow- jacket  with  the  middle 
finger  of  my  right  hand.  Before  I  got  the 
stinger  out,  my  upper  lip  swelled  up  to  enor- 
mous proportions,  and  both  my  eyes  were 
swollen  shut.  Chauvin  looked  at  me  with 
open-eyed  and  open-mouthed  astonishment. 
In  a  characteristic  tone,  native  to  him,  he 
remarked,  "If  I  hadn't  seen  it,  I  couldn't 
believe  it. ' '  He  had  to  lead  me  to  camp. 

I  have  been  very  susceptible  to  bee  stings 
all  my  life.  Several  years  before  this  a 
bumble  bee  had  stung  me  on  my  upper  lip, 
and  my  whole  face  was  swollen  out  of  shape 
for  many  days.  I  suppose  that  fact  had 
something  to  do  with  the  peculiar  action  of 
this  sting.  At  any  rate,  I  was  in  great  mis- 
ery, and  lay  in  camp  with  my  eyes  swollen 
shut  for  three  days  before  the  swelling  began 
to  abate,  I  drank  great  quantities  of  the 
sulphur  water,  and  bathed  my  face  in  it  con- 
tinuously. 

The  morning  after  the  yellow- jacket  inci- 
dent, Chauvin  and  the  roustabout,  the  latter 
taking  my  gun,  left  me  in  bed  and  wT^nt  out 
after  deer.  They  left  without  breakfast, 
about  daylight.  Shortly  afterwards,  two  of 
the  horses  broke  loose  and  ran  through  camp 
terror  stricken.  The  third  horse  strained  at 
[25] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

his  stake  rope,  but  did  not  break  it.  He 
snorted  and  stamped  at  a  great  rate.  The 
loose  horses  did  not  leave  camp,  but  kept  up 
a  constant  running  and  snorting  for  some 
time.  When  Chauvin  came  back,  he  found 
that  a  bear  had  come  down  from  the  moun- 
tains near  ])y,  torn  down  and  partially  de- 
voured one  of  the  deer  we  had  killed  the 
night  before,  not  one  hundred  yards  from 
where  I  lay  in  bed. 

I)t»n  Elogio  de  Cells,  a  well  known  citizen 
of  Los  Angeles,  was  camped  in  a  canyon 
about  a  mile  west  of  us.  That  afternoon  he 
killed  a  grizzly  bear  of  pretty  good  propor- 
tions, and  we  all  supposed  that  he  was  the 
marauder  wlio  liad  visited  our  camp  that 
morning. 

While  I  was  laid  up  Chauvin  got  two 
more  bucks,  several  tree  squirrels  and  some 
mountain  quail.  We  made  plenty  of  jerky, 
wliih'  living  off  the  fat  of  the  land. 

Al)out  four  or  five  days  after  I  was  stung, 
the  swelling  went  down  sufficiently  for  me 
to  see  again,  but  I  had  lost  my  appetite  for 
further  lumting,  especially  as  Chauvin  had 
had  several  long  tramps  without  any  luck. 
We  stayed  in  camp  a  couple  of  days  longer, 
then,  as  signs  of  a  rainstorm  were  prevalent, 
[26] 


A     HUNTING     TRIP 

we  packed  up  and  left  camp  veiy  early  one 
morning,  and  the  first  day  got  back  to  New- 
hall.  The  next  morning,  when  we  reached 
San  Fernando,  as  I  was  not  feeling  any  too 
well,  I  took  the  train  for  Los  Angeles,  so  as 
to  avoid  the  hot,  dusty  ride  in  by  wagon. 

For  many  months  Chauvin  repeated  to  our 
friends  the  extraordinary  circumstances  of 
my  lip  and  eyes  swelling  u^d  from  a  yellow- 
jacket's  sting  on  the  finger.  He  had  hunted 
and  trapped  all  his  life,  but  could  not  get 
over  that  one  incident. 

What  we  had  expected  to  be  a  pleasant 
outing  proved  to  be  rather  a  hard  experience, 
but  we  were  too  old  at  the  game  not  to  have 
enjoyed  it,  and  do  jou  realize  that  after  we 
got  rested  up,  we  felt  better  for  our  experi- 
ence? Life  in  the  ojDen,  the  change  of  air, 
the  excitement  of  hunting,  all  united  in 
sweeping  the  cobwebs  from  our  brains  and 
left  us  better  prepared  for  the  battle  of  life 
than  we  were  before  we  started. 


[27] 


PROFESSOR  ''LO,"  PHILOSOPHER 

My  Interview  with  an  Educated  Indian  in 
the  Wilds  of  Oregon: 

In  the  simnner  of  1902  I  was  camping,  in 
company  with  the  late  Judge  Sterry  of  Los 
Angeles,  on  Spring  Creek  in  the  Klamath 
Indian  Reservation  in  Southeast  Oregon. 
Spring  Creek  rises  out  of  lava  rocks  and 
flows  in  a  southeasterly  direction,  carrying 
over  200,000  inches  of  the  clearest,  coldest 
water  I  ever  saw.  In  fact,  its  waters  are  so 
clear  that  the  best  anglers  can  only  catch 
trout,  with  which  the  stream  abounds,  in 
riffles,  that  is  where  the  stream  runs  over 
rocks  of  such  size  as  to  keep  the  surface  in 
constant  commotion,  thus  obscuring  the 
vision  of  the  fish. 

Two  miles,  or  thereabouts,  from  its  source, 
Spring  Creek  empties  into  the  Williamson 
River.  The  Williamson  rises  miles  away  in 
a  tule  swamp,  and  its  waters  are  as  black 
as  black  coffee.  Where  the  two  streams  come 
together,  the  dark  waters  of  the  Williamson 
stay  on  the  left  hand  side  of  the  stream,  go- 
[28] 


PROFESSOR     LO,     PHILOSOPHER 

ing  down,  and  the  clear  waters  of  Spring 
Creek  on  the  right  hand  side,  for  half  a  mile 
or  more.  Here  some  rapids,  formed  by  a 
s^Yift  declivity  of  the  stream,  over  sunken 
boulders,  cause  a  mix-up  of  the  light  and 
dark  waters,  and  from  there  on  they  flow 
intermingled  and  indistinguishable. 

Nine  miles  down  stream,  the  Sprague 
River  comes  in  from  the  left.  It  is  as  large 
as  the  Williamson,  and  its  waters  are  the 
color  of  milk,  or  nearly  so.  The  stream  flows 
for  miles  over  chalk  beds  and  through  chalk 
cliffs,  which  gives  its  waters  their  weird  col- 
oring. The  union  of  the  waters  of  the  Wil- 
liamson and  the  Sprague  Rivers  results  in 
the  dirty,  gray  coloring  of  the  waters  of 
Klamath  Lake,  into  which  they  empty,  and 
of  the  Klamath  River,  wliich  discharges  the 
lake  into  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

KILLICAN. 

The  place  where  the  Williamson  is  joined 
by  the  S^^rague  is  known  as  the  "Killican." 
The  stream  here  flows  over  a  lava  bottom 
and  is  quite  wide,  in  places  very  deep  and 
in  places  quite  shallow.  There  seemed  to  be 
quite  an  area  of  this  shallow  water.  The 
shallow  places  suddenly  dropped  off  into 
[29] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

pools  of  great  depth,  and  it  was  something  of 
a  stunt  to  wander  around  on  the  shallow  bed 
rock  and  cast  off  into  the  pools  below.  I 
tried  it  and  found  the  lava  as  smooth  and 
slippery  as  polished  glass. 

After  sitting  down  a  couple  of  times  in 
water  two  feet  deep,  I  concluded  to  stay  on 
shore  and  cast  out  into  the  pool.  Following 
this  exhilarating  exercise  with  indifferent 
suf'cess,  I  noticed  approaching  a  little,  old 
Indian.  He  was  bareheaded  and  barefooted. 
His  shirt  was  open,  exposing  his  throat  and 
breast.  His  eyes  were  deep  set,  his  hair  and 
beard  a  grizzly  gray.  He  had  a  willow  fish- 
ing pole  in  one  hand  and  a  short  bush  with 
green  leaves  on  it,  with  which  he  was  whack- 
ing grasshoppers,  in  the  other.  He  circled 
around  on  the  bank  near  me,  now  and  again 
f-atr-hing  a  hopper.  I  noticed  that  he  ate 
a)>out  two  out  of  every  five  that  he  caught. 
The  others  he  kept  for  bait. 

Finally  he  approached  the  stream.  He 
paid  no  attention  whatever  to  me.  He  se- 
loftod  a  spot  almost  under  me,  squatted  down 
upon  a  flat  rock,  put  two  grasshoppers  on 
his  hook,  threw  it  into  the  stream,  and  in 
a  very  short  time  drew  out  a  good  six-pound 
trrnit.  Filled  with  admiration  for  the  feat, 
[30] 


PROFESSOR     LO,     PHILOSOPHER 

while  he  was  tying  a  string  through  the  fish's 
gills  I  said  to  hiin,  "Muy  mahe,"  which  an- 
other Indian  had  told  mc  meant  "big  trout." 
Without  looking  up  or  turning  his  head,  he 
said  to  me  in  perfect  English,  "What  sort 
of  lingo  are  you  giving  me,  young  man? 
The  true  pronunciation  of  those  words  is," 
and  then  he  repeated  "Muy  mahe,"  with 
just  a  little  twist  to  his  words  that  I  had 
not  given  them.  Eesuming  the  conversation 
he  remarked,  "Why  not  speak  English? 
When  both  parties  understand  it,  it  is  much 
more  comfortable.  I  intended  to  catch  but 
one  fish,  but  as  you  have  adnured  this  one, 
allow^  me  to  present  it  to  you  with  my  com- 
pliments. ' '  He  had  turned  around  now,  and 
held  out  the  struggling  trout,  a  pleasant 
smile  upon  his  worn  features. 

Embarrassed  beyond  measure,  I  apolo- 
gized for  attempting  to  talk  to  him  in  his 
own  language,  and  accepted  the  trout.  He 
baited  his  hook,  cast  it  into  the  stream,  and 
in  a  short  time  landed  a  still  larger  trout. 
Without  removing  it  from  the  hook,  he  came 
up  the  bank  to  where  I  was  seated.  He  laid 
his  fish  and  rod  on  the  grass,  wiped  his  fore- 
head with  his  hand  and  sat  down. 

"I  never  catch  more  fish,  or  kill  more  game 
[31] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

than  I  need  for  my  present  wants,"  he  re- 
marked. "That  trout  will  be  ample  for  my 
wife  and  myself  for  supper  and  breakfast, 
and  in  fact  for  all  day  tomorrow.  When  he 
is  gone,  1  will  catch  another  one." 

Then,  turning  to  me,  he  asked,  "From 
what  section  of  civilization  do  you  hail?" 
1  told  hhn  1  was  from  Los  Angeles. 

'  *  Ah,  Los  Angeles, ' '  he  murmured.  ' '  The 
Queen  City  of  the  West  and  Angel  City  of 
the  South.  I  have  read  much  of  your  beau- 
tiful city,  and  I  have  often  thought  I  would 
like  to  visit  it  and  confirm  with  my  own  eyes 
all  I  read  about  it.  What  a  paradise  that 
country  nuist  have  been  for  the  Indian  be- 
fore you  white  men  came!  I  can  hardly 
imagine  a  land  of  perpetual  sunshine,  a  land 
where  the  flowers  bloom  constantly,  where 
snows  never  fall.  Yes,  I  would  like  to  go 
there,  but  I  imagine  I  never  shall."  Then, 
with  an  imjuiring  glance,  "What  may  be 
your  calling?"  he  asked. 

I  told  liiin  1  was  an  attorney-at-law. 

"A  noble  profession,"  he  remarked. 
"Next  to  medicine  I  regard  it  as  the  noblest 
])rofcssion  known  to  our  limited  capabilities. 
I  )n  you  ever  think,"  he  asked  me,  "that  the 
medical  profession  is  devoted  to  relieving 
[:!2] 


PROFESSOR     LO,     PHILOSOPHER 

physical  ills?  To  warding  off  death?  The 
law,  on  the  other  hand,  takes  care  of  your 
property  rights.  It  is  supposed  to  be  the 
guardian  of  the  weak.  How  often,  hcjwcver, 
do  we  see  its  mission  perverted,  and  how 
often  it  becomes  an  oppressor  of  the  unfor- 
tunate. How  many  times  do  we  see  it  aiding 
in  the  accumulation  of  those  large  fortunes 
with  which  our  modern  civilization  is  fast 
becoming  burdened  and  brutalized." 

While  I  had  never  contracted  the  filthy 
habit  of  smoking,  I  had  in  my  pocket  several 
good  cigars.  I  extended  the  case  to  my  new- 
found friend.  He  took  one,  thanked  me,  bit 
off  the  end,  lit  it  and  puffed  away  with  evi- 
dent enjo>TLnent.  I  took  the  liberty  of  ask- 
ing him  his  business.  "I  am  a  professor  of 
belles  lettres  and  philosophy  in  the  Indian 
College  on  the  Klamath  reservation.  I  am 
here  on  my  vacation.  I  was  born  and  reared 
to  early  manhood  in  these  mountains.  They 
still  have  a  charm  for  me.  While  I  love 
my  books  and  my  labors,  there  is  a  freedom 
in  my  life  here  which  appeals  to  me.  Here 
I  go  back  to  natural  life,  and  study  again 
the  book  of  nature.  Each  day  I  take  a  les- 
son from  the  wild  animals  of  the  forest, 
from  the  surging  streams  and  twittering 
[33] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

birtls.    Here  I  can  better  realize  how  small 
is  uiau  in  the  general  plan  of  creation." 

He  hesitated,  and  I  took  advantage  of  his 
silence  and  asked  him  about  the  religion 
of  his  race.  ^Tiether  the  modern  red  man 
adhered  to  the  teachings  of  his  tribe,  or 
k'aned  toward  the  white  man's  God.  Re- 
pl}ing,  he  delivered  to  me  a  discourse  of 
considerable  length,  which,  as  near  as  I  can 
recollect  it  now,  ran  as  follows : 

A  RED  AGNOSTIC. 

"My  people  have  been  too  busy  these  many 
years  filling  their  stomachs  to  pay  much  at- 
tention to  saving  their  souls.  We  teach  a  re- 
ligion that  inculcates  good  behavior,  and 
promises  as  a  reward  for  a  well-spent  life 
an  eternity  of  bliss  in  the  happy  hunting 
ground.  Our  future  is  depicted  by  our 
priests  as  a  materialistic  future,  where  we 
follow  the  chase,  defeat  our  enemies  and  en- 
joy to  our  full  those  things  which  render  us 
happy  in  this  world.  Personally,  I  have 
long  since  discarded  the  teachings  of  my 
j)eople,  and  I  am  in  a  state  of  doubt  which 
seriously  perplexes  me.  I  have  read  much 
and  widely  on  this  subject.  I  find  that  you 
white  men  have  not  one  religion,  but  many. 
[34] 


SPRING     CREEK 


PROFESSOR     LO,     PHILOSOPHER 

You  are  divided  into  sects,  torn  by  factions. 
From  the  teachings  of  history  I  would  think 
that  the  multitude  of  denominations  you 
support  was  your  greatest  safeguard.  You 
know  from  times  past,  when  a  religion  be- 
comes too  powerful  it  becomes  also  intoler- 
ant, and  persecutions  follow.  I  am  loath  to 
accept  the  Christian  theory  of  the  origin  of 
man  or  his  probable  destiny.  Science  teaches 
us  that  the  human  being  has  existed  for 
millions  of  years  longer  than  the  churches 
admit  we  have  existed.  The  idolatry  prac- 
ticed by  the  Catholic  church  repulses  me, 
and  yet  its  stability  has  strongly  appealed 
to  me.  You  will  remember  what  Macaulay, 
in  reviewing  Ranke's  History  of  the  Popes, 
said  of  this  church.  After  reviewing  its  his- 
tory, its  defeats  and  its  triumphs,  he  added : 
'And  she  may  still  exist  in  undiminished 
vigor  when  some  traveler  from  New  Zealand 
shall  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  solitude  take  his 
stand  on  a  broken  arch  of  London  Bridge  to 
sketch  the  ruins  of  St.  Paul.'  And  yet, 
neither  the  age  of  the  church  nor  its  stabil- 
ity is  conclusive  to  my  mind  of  its  divine 
origin.  T  am  rather  convinced  from  these 
facts  that  it  has  been  governed  by  a  skillful 
set  of  men,  who  were  able  politicians  and 
[35] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

financiers,  as  well  as  religious  enthusiasts. 
Certainly  no  protestant  church  can  lav  claim 
to  divine  origin.  We  know  too  well  that  the 
Episcopal  church  was  founded  by  an  Eng- 
lish King,  because  the  Pope  of  Rome  refused 
him  a  divorce.  Luther  quarreled  with  his 
church  and  broke  away  from  its  restraints. 
Wesley  founded  the  IMethodist  church,  Cal- 
vin the  Presbyterian  church.  The  more  I 
study  the  religious  history  of  the  world,  the 
more  I  am  convinced  that  religion  is  founded 
on  fear.  Tlie  innnortal  bard,  from  whom 
nothing  seems  to  have  been  hidden,  lays 
down  the  foundation  of  all  religion  in  those 
words  from  'Hamlet,'  where  he  makes  the 
melancholy  Dane  exclaim : 

"To  die  : — to  sleep. — 
To  sleep!  perchance  to  dream  : — ay,  there's  the  rub; 
For  in  that  sleep  of  death  what  dreams  may  come, 
When  we  have  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil, 
Must  pive  us  pause." 

"Do  you  realize  that  Ingersoll,  by  his 
teachings  and  his  denunciations  of  what  he 
tenned  the  'absurdities  of  orthodox  religious 
beliefs,'  has  done  more  toward  shaking  faith 
in  many  church  doctrines  than  any  man  of 
this  age  1  And,  after  all,  is  not  his  doctrine 
[36] 


;->:'^^^ 


WOOD     RIVE?..     OREGON 


PROFESSOR     LO,     PHILOSOPHER 

a  sane  one?  He  says,  in  effect:  'I  can  not 
believe  these  things.  My  reason  revolts  at 
them.  They  are  repugnant  to  my  intellect.  I 
can  not  believe  that  a  just  God  will  punish 
one  of  His  creatures  for  an  honest  opinion.' 
He  denies  that  there  is  such  a  God  as  the 
churches  hold  out  to  us.  He  denies  that  the 
world  was  created  in  six  days ;  that  man  was 
created  in  the  manner  described  in  the  Bible, 
and  that  woman  was  created  from  man 's  rib. 
He  denies  that  miracles  were  ever  per- 
formed, or  that  there  was  any  evidence,  re- 
liable or  authoritative,  that  they  were  ever 
performed.  And  yet  he  does  not  deny  the 
existence  of  a  future  life.  His  doctrine  on 
this  point  is,  '  I  know  only  the  history  of  the 
past  and  the  happenings  of  the  present.  I 
do  not  know,  nor  does  any  man  know,  any- 
thing of  the  future.  Let  us  hope  there  is  a 
life  beyond  the  grave.' 

''The  old  poet,  Omar,  argues  against  a 
future  life.    You  will  recall  these  lines : 

"  'Strange,  is  it  not.  that  of  the  multitudes  who 
Before  us  pass'd  the  door  of  Darkness  through, 

Not  one  returns  to  tell  us  of  the  Road, 
Which  to  discover  we  must  travel,  too.'  " 

"The  churches  tell  us  we  must  have  faith 
[37] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

to  be  saved,  but  the  great  minds  of  the  pres- 
ent age  are  not  satisfied,  any  more  than 
many  of  the  great  minds  of  the  past  were 
satisfied,  to  admit  as  a  matter  of  faith  the 
whole  foundation  of  the  Christian  religion. 
"People  want  to  be  shown.  They  are  not 
willing  to  rely  upon  poorly  authenticated 
stories  of  what  occurred  several  thousand 
years  ago.  The  question  presents  itself  to 
us:  Ts  the  world  better,  for  its  present  be- 
liefs than  it  formerly  was,  when  religion  was 
a  matter  of  statute  ?  People  may  not  be  as 
religious  as  they  once  were,  but  they  are  cer- 
tainly more  humane.  Women  are  no  longer 
slaves,  chattels,  with  unfeeling  husbands. 
Slavery  itself  no  longer  exists  in  any  civil- 
ized nation.  Polygamy  is  not  practiced  to 
the  extent  that  it  was  in  Biblical  days.  The 
world  progressed  as  fear  ceased  to  rule  the 
human  mind. 

"But,  pardon  me,"  he  added  with  infinite 
grace  and  a  charming  wave  of  his  hand, 
"you  see  your  question  has  aroused  in  me 
the  failing  of  the  pedagogue.  I  have  said 
moro  than  T  had  intended." 

"TTow  do  your  people,"  I   asked,  "look 
upon  the  material   progress   of  the   age?" 
"They  are  astounded,"  he  answered.  "Since 
[38] 


I   H  E    K  I  L  L  I  C  A  N 


PROFESSOR     LO,     PHILOSOPHER 

the  Modoc  War  many  of  my  people  have 
prospered.  You  have  seen  their  farms,  their 
houses,  and  noted  their  occupations.  They 
are  rich  in  lands  and  stock,  and  even  in 
money.  They  have  many  comforts  and  even 
many  luxuries  in  their  homes.  Some  of 
them  have  traveled  extensively,  and  they 
come  back  filled  with  awe  and  admiration 
with  what  the  white  man  has  done  and  is 
doing.  I  read  the  modern  press,  and  many 
scientific  works,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  man 
will  fly  in  a  few  years  more.  Already  the 
automobile  is  displacing  the  domestic  ani- 
mals. The  telephone  was  a  great  triumph 
of  science,  next  in  importance  to  steam  loco- 
motion. But,  are  your  people  as  happy 
with  your  modern  methods,  your  crowded 
cities,  your  strenuous  existence,  as  your 
forefathers  were,  who  led  the  simple  life? 
And  where  is  this  mad  scramble,  not  for 
wealth  alone,  not  for  power  but  for  mere 
existence,  nothing  more,  that  the  human  race 
is  engaged  in,  going  to  end?  Can  you  tell 
me  ?  Take  America,  one  of  the  newest  civil- 
ized lands  of  the  earth,  how  long  will  it  be 
before  her  coal  measures  are  exhausted? 
Her  iron  ores  exhausted?  Her  forests  will 
soon  be  a  thing  of  the  past.  Already  you 
[39] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

hear  complaints  that  her  fertile  lands  are 
not  yielding  as  they  once  did,  and  your  pop- 
ulation is  constantly  increasing.  With  coal 
gone,  with  iron  gone,  with  the  land  poverty 
stricken  to  a  point  where  profitable  produc- 
tion of  cereals  can  no  longer  be  had,  what  is 
to  become  of  your  teeming  millions?" 

THE  AWAKENING. 

I  assured  him  I  could  not  answer  these 
questions.  That  I  had  asked  myself  the 
same  things  a  thousand  times,  and  no  answer 
came  to  me.  I  handed  the  professor  another 
cigar.  He  lit  it.  Just  then  an  old  Indian 
woman  clad  in  a  calico  wrapper,  but  bare- 
headed and  barefooted,  came  down  the  road 
towards  us.  She  stopped  some  fifty  feet 
away,  and  in  a  shy,  low  voice,  but  in  good 
English,  she  called  him.  "Papa,  did  you 
catch  me  a  fish  for  dinner?"  The  professor 
turned  his  head,  and  seeing  her,  said  to  me, 
''Ah,  here  is  my  guardian  angel,  my  wife," 
and  then  to  her,  holding  up  his  trout,  he  said, 
**  Yes,  I  have  it.    I  am  coming  now. " 

He  arose,  held  out  a  dirty  hand  for  me  to 
shake,  and  in  parting,  said,  "My  dear  sir, 
you  can  not  imagine  how  much  I  have  en- 
joyed our  chance  meeting,  resulting  from 
[40] 


PROFESSOR     LO,     PHILOSOPHER 

your  poor  pronunciation  of  two  Indian 
words.  When  you  return  to  your  civilized 
surroundings,  ask  yourself,  'Are  any  of  this 
mad  throng  as  happy  as  the  Indian  I  met 
at  the  Killican'." 

He  joined  his  wife,  and  the  aged  pair 
passed  into  a  brush  hut  beneath  some  stately 
pines.  I,  too,  turned  toward  the  wagon 
which  was  to  carry  me  back  to  camp,  medi- 
tating long  and  deeply  on  the  remarks  of 
this  strolling  compound  of  savagery  and 
education.  Environment  is  largely  respon- 
sible for  man's  condition.  Here  was  a  man 
who  had  acquired  considerable  knowledge  of 
the  world  and  books,  he  was  still  a  savage 
in  his  manner  of  life  and  in  his  habits. 

His  manner  of  talking  was  forceful  and 
natural,  and  his  conmiand  of  language  re- 
markable. The  ease  and  abandon  with  which 
he  wielded  the  arguments  of  those  who  rail 
against  the  existence  of  a  Divine  Being 
would  lead  one,  listening  to  him,  to  imagine 
hhnself  in  the  lecture-room  of  some  modern 
university. 


[41] 


A    GREAT  DAY'S  SPORT  ON   WAR- 
NER'S RANCH. 

Think  of  three  daj^s  in  the  open!  Three 
<rlorioiis  davs  in  the  sunshine!  "Far  from 
the  madding  crowd!"  Far  from  the  rush 
and  stir  and  whirl  and  hum  of  business! 
Far  from  the  McNamara  horror,  and  its 
sickening  aftemiath  of  jury  bribing! 

A  short  time  ago,  whirling  over  good 
roads  and  bad  roads,  through  orange  groves 
with  their  loads  of  fruit,  rapidly  assuming 
golden  hues;  through  miles  and  miles  of 
vineyards,  now  'reft  of  all  leaves,  vineyards 
in  which  the  pruners  were  already  busily  at 
work;  past  acres  and  acres  of  ground  being 
prepared  for  grain;  through  wooded  can- 
yons and  pine-screened  vales;  ascending 
from  almost  sea  level  to  upwards  of  3000 
feet — a  party  of  us  went  to  Warner's  Eanch 
after  the  famous  canvasback  ducks. 

We  left  my  home  at  7:30  o'clock  a.  m., 
some  of  us  in  my  machine,  and  two  of  the 
party  in  a  runajjout.  Filled  with  the  am- 
bition of  youth,  the  driver  of  the  latter  car 
[42] 


SPORT     ON     WARNER  'S     RANCH 

reached  Mr.  William  Newport's  place  in  the 
Perris  Valley,  a  run  of  seventy-six  miles, 
in  two  hours  and  twenty  minutes.  We 
jogged  along,  reaching  Newport's  in  three 
hours,  and  found  the  exultant,  speed-crazed 
fiend  waiting  for  us.  He  was  loud  in  the 
praise  of  his  speedy  run.  Of  all  of  this 
take  note  a  little  later  in  the  story. 

We  lunched  with  Mr.  Newport,  and  then 
took  him  with  us.  What  a  day  it  was!  A 
radiant,  dry,  winter  day!  The  whole  earth 
was  flooded  with  sunshine.  Not  a  cloud 
was  in  the  sky.  The  air  was  full  of  snap 
and  electric  energy.  The  atmosphere  abso- 
lutely clear.  We  wound  in  and  out  of  the 
canyons,  over  dry  and  running  streams,  al- 
ways ascending,  climbing  the  eastern  shoul- 
der of  Mt.  Palomar,  not  to  the  top,  but  to 
a  pass  by  which  the  ranch  is  reached. 

Before  4  o'clock  we  were  on  Warner's 
Ranch.  This  property  could  well  be  de- 
scribed as  the  "Pamir"  of  Southern  Cali- 
fornia. True,  its  elevation  is  but  slight  com- 
pared with  the  16,000  feet  of  that  great  Asi- 
atic country,  bearing  the  name  of  '* Pamir," 
where  roams  in  all  his  freedom  the  true 
''Ovis  Poli"  or  "Big  Horn." 

The  ranch  comprises   about  57,000   acres 
[43] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

of  land,  and  is  the  largest  body  of  compara- 
tively level  land  at  even  an  elevation  of  3500 
feet  in  Southern  California.  It  is  an  im- 
mense (ireidar  valley,  rock  ribbed  and  moun- 
tain bound.  Out  of  it,  through  a  narrow 
gorge  to  the  southwest,  flows  the  San  Luis 
Key  River.  The  ranch  is  well  watered. 
^^uch  of  it  during  the  winter  season  is  semi- 
bog  or  swamp  land,  and  at  all  times  affords 
wonderful  grazing  for  stock.  There  are 
circling  hills  and  level  mesas  and  broad  val- 
leys here  and  there.  Nestled  between  the 
hills  are  a  number  of  mountain  lakes,  fed 
hy  innumerable  springs  around  their  edges. 
These  lakes  furnish  food  for  the  canvasback 
duck  in  the  various  grasses  and  other 
growths,  of  which  they  are  extremely  fond. 

FIEST  BAG. 

Contrary  to  good  judgment,  we  drove  to 
one  of  these  lakes,  and  had  half  an  hour's 
shooting  that  evening.  We  got  about  twenty 
birds.  AVe  proceeded  to  the  hotel,  and  after 
drawing  our  birds,  hung  them  up  where 
they  would  freeze  that  night  and  not  be  in 
the  sun  while  we  were  shooting  next  day. 

A  fold  north  wind  was  blowing,  which 
whistled  mournfully  through  the  cotton- 
[44] 


SPORT     ON     WARNER  'S     RANCH 

woods,  and  suggested  a  night  where  plenty 
of  blankets  would  be  more  than  acceptable. 

The  hotel  is  situated  at  the  Warner's  Hot 
Springs,  celebrated  throughout  all  of  South- 
ern California  for  their  wonderful  curative 
properties.  The  proprietor,  Mr.  Stanford, 
and  his  good  wife,  made  us  comfortable,  and 
were  as  accommodating  as  we  have  always 
found  them.  After  a  good  supper  we  pro- 
ceeded to  our  rooms  and  got  ready  for  the 
next  day's  slaughter.  Well  into  the  night 
the  wind  whistled  and  blew.  It  finally  went 
down.  Then  the  temperature  began  to  fall. 
The  thermometer  went  to  29  degrees  before 
morning.  Wherever  there  was  a  thin  sur- 
face of  water,  there  was  ice. 

We  did  not  get  out  very  early.  It  is  not 
necessary  at  Warner's.  The  ducks  fly  from 
lake  to  lake  when  disturbed.  If  too  heavily 
bombarded  they  leave  the  valle}^  We  break- 
fasted about  7  o'clock.  Taking  our  guns 
and  ammunition,  we  started  out  over  the 
frosty  roads  for  the  lakes.  As  we  reached 
the  loAver  ground  the  frost  was  heavier.  I 
found  the  surface  of  one  small  lake  solidly 
frozen.  At  the  larger  lakes  there  was  just 
a  little  ice  on  tlie  edges.  We  distributed  our 
men  to  the  various  lakes,  and  the  shooting 
began. 

[45] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

Say,  neighbor,  did  you  ever  hunt  those 
])ig  mountain  canvasback  ?  If  you  have,  you 
know  the  story.  If  you  have  not,  I  am 
afraid  I  can  not  give  you  a  correct  impres- 
sion of  it.  Sitting  in  a  frozen  blind,  all  at 
once  you  hear  the  whirring  of  wings,  far 
off  in  the  sky.  Before  you  can  locate  the 
source  of  it,  "S\\dsh!"  an  old  Can  goes  by. 
You  look  at  the  streak  of  light  he  leaves  in 
the  atmosphere.  Then  you  hear  another 
far-off  alarm.  You  seize  your  gun  as  the 
gray  mark  passes  overhead  at  about  125 
miles  an  hour.  You  shoot  at  it  and  realize 
that  you  have  shot  just  fifty  feet  behind  it. 
Another  one  comes  by.  Bang!  again  goes 
the  gun.  You  have  done  a  little  better  this 
time,  but  you  are  yet  not  less  than  thirty 
feet  in  the  rear.  Again  you  try  it.  Just  a 
few  feathers  fly.  You  are  alarmed  now, 
and  there  comes  to  you  the  admonition  of 
an  old  duck  hunter,  who  laid  down  the  fol- 
lowing three  rules  for  duck  shooting,  viz : 

"First,  lead  them  considerably. 

"Second,  lead  them  a  little  more  than  last 
time. 

"Third,  still  lead  them  further  yet." 

The  next  time  you  get  your  bird,  a  great 
big,  magnificent  Can.  Kerplunk!  he  falls 
[46] 


SPORT     ON     WARNER  'S     RANCH 

into  the  water,  or  with  a  dull  thud,  he  strikes 
the  ground  with  force  enough  to  kill  a  horse 
if  hit  squarely  by  it.  What  a  bird  he  was ! 
How  beautifully  marked!  How  bright  his 
wing !  HoAv  deep  his  breast,  compared  with 
any  other  duck  in  the  land !  How  magniii- 
cent  the  dark  brown,  velvet  coloring  of  his 
head!  How  soft  and  satiny  the  white 
streaked  back! 

All  over  the  valley  the  guns  were  boom- 
ing. Out  of  the  sky,  a  mile  away,  you  would 
see  ducks  flying  rapidly,  suddenly  crumple 
up  and  plunge  to  the  earth  or  water. 

DUCKS  GO  SKATING. 

In  a  lull  in  the  shooting  I  left  my  blind 
and  went  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  to  the 
little  lake  mentioned  before  as  frozen  over. 
I  crept  up  to  the  top  of  a  hill  and  looked 
down  upon  it.  Although  the  sun  was  high 
in  the  sky,  the  lake  was  still  frozen.  It  was 
surrounded  by  ducks.  I  don't  want  to  say 
that  they  were  skating  on  the  ice.  I  saw 
one  old  canvasback  drake,  however,  peck  at 
another  duck.  The  latter  squawked  and 
waddled  out  of  the  way,  going  where  the 
water  should  have  been.  When  he  struck 
the  ice,  he  slid  for  quite  a  little  distance, 
balancing  with  his  wings  in  a  most  ludicrous 
[47] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

fashion.  A\'liile  cautiously  watcliing  them, 
I  saw  this  performauce  repeated  several 
times. 

There  was  no  hope  of  my  approaching 
them  within  shooting  distance,  so  I  stood  up 
to  arouse  the  ducks,  hoping  to  send  them  to 
my  companions.  They  filled  the  air  with  a 
great  clatter  of  wings,  and  circled  off  to 
various  portions  of  the  valley.  I  heard  a 
great  bombardment  as  they  crossed  the  other 
hikes,  and  I  knew  that  someone  had  taken 
tt>ll  from  them. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day,  wdth  cloudless  sky. 
The  sun's  warm  summerlike  rays  were  in 
marked  contrast  to  the  icy  breath  of  win- 
ter, encountered  at  sunrise.  What  a  grand 
sunrise  it  w^as !  From  behind  the  mountains 
of  the  East,  up  out  of  the  depths  of  the 
Salton  Sea,  Old  Sol  first  illmninated  the  sky, 
the  mountain  tops  and  wooded  ridges  to  the 
soil  til  west  and  north,  and  then  with  a  rich 
sliow  of  crimson  coloring,  he  suddenly  vault- 
ed into  the  sky,  touching  with  his  golden 
wand  each  frosted  leaf  and  frozen  bush  and 
tree,  and  hill  and  vale  and  mountain  top. 

FINE  LUCK. 

We  shot  with  varying  success  during  the 
morning  hours. 

[48] 


SPORT     ON     WARNER  'S     RANCH 

Many  of  the  ducks,  especially  the  larger 
ones,  circled  high  in  the  air  like  miniature 
aeroplanes,  ahnost  beyond  hiunan  vision. 
How  they  sped  on  frightened  wings,  gradu- 
ally going  higher  and  higher,  and  finally 
darting  off  over  the  eastern  rim  of  the  valley 
in  the  direction  of  Salton  Sea.  Just  before 
noon  time  my  companion  at  one  of  the  lakes, 
and  myself,  gathered  up  our  ducks  and  hung 
them  high  in  a  tree  at  the  water's  edge.  We 
then  went  to  another  lake  by  which  the  autos 
stood,  where  we  had  agreed  to  muster  for 
limch.  The  entire  party  were  in  high  spir- 
its, and  pronounced  the  sport  the  best  they 
had  ever  had. 

After  lunch  two  of  the  party  in  the  run- 
about drove  out  of  the  valley  to  some  place 
familiar  to  them.  They  returned  later  with 
the  limit  of  jacksnipe — big,  fat,  thick-breast- 
ed, meaty  looking  birds. 

My  companion  and  myself  returned  to 
our  blinds.  The  duck  flight  during  the  fore 
part  of  the  afternoon  was  exceedingly  light. 
I  managed  to  land,  among  others,  a  beauti- 
ful canvasback  drake.  Shortly  afterwards 
I  stopped  as  fine  a  Mallard  drake  as  I  ever 
saw.  This  was  the  only  Mallard  killed  on 
the  trip. 

[49] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

lu  the  gathering  shadows  of  the  coming 
night  we  drove  back  to  the  Springs.  Seven 
guns  had  killed  118  ducks,  fifty  of  them  can- 
vasbaek.  There  was  a  fine  sprinkling  of 
sprig,  redhead,  widgeon,  plenty  of  teal,  blue- 
bills  and  some  spoonbills,  all  fine,  fat  birds. 
Then  there  were  the  jacksnipe. 

Tired  and  happy  we  dined.  Until  retiring 
time,  we  lived  again  the  sport  of  the  day. 
When  we  sought  our  beds,  sleep  came  quick- 
ly, and  I  do  not  think  any  of  us  turned  over 
until  it  was  time  to  get  up.  We  had  packed 
our  belongings,  taken  on  gasoline  and 
])reakfasted,  and  started  homeward  a  little 
after  7  o'clock. 

We  visited  another  section  of  the  country 
known  to  one  of  our  party,  and  fell  in  with 
some  mountain  pigeons,  and  in  a  couple  of 
hours  managed  to  kill  sixty-eight  of  them. 
Talk  about  shooting!  Oh,  Mama!  How 
those  pigeons  could  fly!  And  pack  away 
lead !  No  bird  I  ever  saw  could  equal  them 
in  that  particular. 

Even  at  close  range,  a  well-centered  bird 
would,  when  hard  hit,  pull  himself  together 
as  his  feathers  flew  in  the  breeze,  and  sail 
away  out  into  some  mountain  side,  quite  out 
of  reach  of  the  hunter,  undoubtedly  to  die 
[50] 


SPORT     ON     WARNER  'S     RANCH 

and  furnish  food  for  the  buzzards  or  coyotes. 
We  had  to  take  awful  chances  as  to  distance 
in  order  to  kill  any  of  them. 

While  looking  for  a  dead  pigeon  that  fell 
off  towards  the  bottom  of  a  wooded  bluff  in 
some  thick  bunches  of  chapparal,  I  heard 
the  quick  boof !  boof !  of  the  hoofs  of  a 
bounding  deer.  I  did  not  see  that  animal. 
An  instant  later,  in  rounding  a  heavy  growth 
of  bushes,  I  saw  a  magnificent  buck  grazing 
on  the  tender  growth.  He  stood  just  the 
fraction  of  a  second  with  the  young  twig  of 
the  bush  in  his  mouth,  looking  at  me  with 
his  great  luminous  eyes,  and  then  he  made 
a  jump  or  two  out  of  sight.  Strange  that 
these  two  animals  had  not  fled  at  the  sound 
of  our  guns. 

A  game  warden  hailed  us  and  insisted  on 
seeing  all  our  hunting  licenses  and  on  count- 
ing our  ducks.  This  privilege,  under  the 
law,  we  could  have  denied  him,  but  we  were 
a  little  proud  of  the  birds  we  had,  and  as 
we  were  well  within  the  number  we  could 
have  killed,  we  made  no  objection  to  his 
doing  so. 

As  a  result  of  its  speedy  run  the  day  be- 
fore, the  runabout  had  for  some  little  time 
been  running  on  a  rim.  We  left  its  occu- 
[51] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

pants,  who  disdained  our  help,  putting  on 
a  new  tire.  After  a  beautiful  run  we  again 
reached  the  Newport  place,  where  we 
lunched.  The  car  did  not  appear.  We  hated 
to  go  away  and  leave  them,  as  we  thought 
they  might  be  in  difficulty.  We  telephoned 
to  Temecula  and  found  they  had  passed  that 
point.  About  two  hours  after  our  arrival 
they  came  whirling  in.  They  had  had  more 
tire  trouble.  They  took  a  hasty  lunch,  and 
we  all  started  together. 

We  made  the  home  run  without  incident. 
Spread  out  in  one  body  our  game  made  a 
most  imposing  appearance.  Besides  the  118 
ducks  there  were  50  jacksnipe  and  68  fine 
large  wild  pigeons. 

Such  days  make  us  regret  that  we  are 
growing  old.  They  rejuvenate  us — make  us 
boys  again. 


[52] 


BOYHOOD  DAYS  IN  EARLY 
CALIFORNIA 

My  boyhood  days,  from  the  time  I  was 
five  until  I  was  fifteen  years  of  age,  were 
spent  on  a  ranch  in  Yuba  County,  California. 
We  were  located  on  the  east  side  of  Feather 
River,  about  five  miles  above  Marysville. 
Tlie  ranch  consisted  of  several  hundred 
acres  of  high  land,  which,  at  its  western  ter- 
minus, fell  away  about  one  hundred  feet  to 
the  river  bottom.  There  were  a  couple  of 
hundred  acres  of  this  river  bottom  land 
which  was  arable.  It  was  exceedingly  rich 
and  productive.  Still  west  of  this  land  was 
a  well-wooded  pasture,  separated  from  the 
cultivated  lands  by  a  good  board  fence.  The 
river  bounded  this  pasture  on  the  north  and 
west. 

In  the  pasture  were  swales  of  damp  land, 
literally  overgrown  with  wild  blackberry 
bushes.  They  bore  prolific  crops  of  long, 
black,  juicy  berries,  far  superior  to  the  tame 
berries,  and  they  were  almost  entirely  free 
from  seeds.  Many  a  time  have  I  tem- 
[53] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

porai-ily  bankrupted  my  stomach  on  hot 
bla(*kberry  roll,  with  good,  rich  sauce. 

The  country  fairly  teemed  with  game. 
Quail  and  rabbit  were  with  us  all  the  time. 
Doves  came  by  the  thousands  in  the  early 
sunnner  and  departed  in  the  fall.  In  winter 
the  wild  ducks  and  geese  were  more  than 
abundant.  In  the  spring  wild  pigeons  vis- 
ited us  in  great  numbers.  There  was  one 
old  oak  tree  which  was  a  favorite  resting- 
place  with  them.  Sheltered  by  some  live  oak 
bushes,  I  was  always  enabled  to  sneak  up 
and  kill  many  of  them  out  of  this  tree. 

I  began  to  wander  with  the  gun  when  I 
was  but  a  little  over  eight  years  old.  The 
gun  was  a  long,  double-barrel,  muzzle-load- 
ing derelict.  Wads  were  not  a  commercial 
commodity  in  those  days.  I  would  put  in 
some  powder,  guessing  at  the  amount,  then 
a  wad  of  newspaper,  and  thoroughh^  ram  it 
home,  upon  top  of  this  the  shot,  quantity  also 
guessed  at,  and  more  paper.  But  it  was 
barely  shoved  to  the  shot,  never  rammed. 
Sad  experience  taught  me  that  ramming  the 
shot  added  to  the  kicking  qualities  of  the 
firearm.  How  that  old  gun  could  kick! 
^fany  times  it  bowled  me  over.  St.  George 
Littledale,  a  noted  English  sportsman,  in 
[54] 


BOYHOOD     IN    EARLY    CALIFORNIA 

describing  a  peculiarly  heavy  express  rifle, 
said,  ''It  was  absolutely  without  recoil. 
Every  time  I  discharged  it,  it  simply  pushed 
me  over."  That  described  m}^  gun  exactly, 
except  that  it  had  "the  recoil."  I  deemed 
myself  especially  fortunate  if  I  could  get  up 
against  a  fence  post  or  an  oak  tree  when  I 
shot  at  something.  By  this  means  I  re- 
tained an  upright  position.  Armed  with  this 
gun,  an  antiquated  powder  flask,  a  shot 
pouch  whose  measurer  was  missing,  and  a 
dilapidated  game  bag,  I  spent  hours  in  the 
woods  and  fields,  shooting  such  game  as  I 
needed,  learning  to  love  life  in  the  open,  the 
trees,  the  flowers,  the  birds  and  the  wild 
animals  I  met.  I  was  as  proud  of  my  outfit 
as  the  modern  hunter  is  of  his  $500  gun  and 
expensive  accompaniments.  When  I  went 
after  the  cows,  I  carried  my  gun,  and  often 
got  a  dozen  or  more  quail  at  a  pot  shot  out 
of  some  friendly  covey.  If  I  went  to  plow 
corn,  or  work  in  the  vegetable  garden,  the 
gun  accompanied  me,  and  it  was  sure  to  do 
deadly  execution  every  day. 

When  it  was  too  wet  to  plow,  no  matter 

how  hard  it  was  raining,  it  was  just  right 

to  hunt.    Clad  in  a  gum  coat,  I  would  take 

my  gun  and  brave  the  elements,  when  a  seat 

[55] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

by  the  fireside  would  have  been  much  more 
comfortable.  I  loved  to  be  out  in  a  storm, 
to  watch  the  rain,  to  hear  the  wind  toss  and 
tear  the  branches  of  the  trees,  to  hear  at  first 
hand  the  fury  of  the  storm,  and  watch  the 
birds  hovering  in  the  underbrush,  and  the 
wild  waterfowl  seek  the  protection  of  the 
willows.  In  such  a  storm  great  flocks  of 
geese  would  scurry  across  the  country  with- 
in a  few  feet  of  the  ground.  They  usu- 
ally went  in  the  teeth  of  the  gale.  At  such 
times  they  constantly  uttered  shrill  cries 
and  appeared  utterly  demoralized. 

If  there  were  game  laws  in  those  days,  I 
never  knew  it.  It  was  always  open  season 
with  me.  Often  my  mother  would  tell  me 
to  shoot  something  besides  quail,  that  she 
was  tired  of  them. 

There  was  a  slough  on  the  place  which 
was  full  of  beaver  and  beaver  dams.  How 
I  tried  to  get  one  of  them,  always  without 
success !  They  were  very  crafty,  very  alert, 
and  at  the  slightest  indication  of  danger 
dived  under  water  to  the  doors  of  their 
houses,  long  before  one  was  in  gunshot  of 
them.  Full  many  a  weary  hour  have  I 
spent,  hidden  in  the  brush,  watching  a  near- 
by beaver  dam  in  the  hope  of  getting  a  shot, 
[56] 


BOYHOOD     IN     EARLY     CALIFORNIA 

but  always  without  avail.  They  would  ap- 
pear at  other  dams,  too  far  away,  but  never 
show  themselves  close  enough  to  be  injured. 

In  the  winter  the  slough  fairly  swarmed 
wdth  ducks  of  every  variety.  They  were  dis- 
turbed but  little,  and  they  used  these  w^aters 
as  a  resting  place,  flying  far  out  into  the 
grain  fields  and  into  the  open  plain  at  night 
for  their  food.  The  beautiful  wood  duck, 
now  almost  extinct  in  California,  was  very 
plentiful.  They  went  in  flocks  as  wddgeon 
do.  They  would  go  into  the  tops  of  the  oak 
trees  and  feed  upon  the  acorns.  I  killed 
many  of  them  as  they  came  out  of  these 
trees.  In  flying  they  had  a  w^ay  of  mass- 
ing together  like  blackbirds,  and  one  shot 
often  brought  down  a  goodly  bag  of  them. 

The  slough  I  mentioned  above  was  not  a 
stagnant  one.  It  w^as  fed  by  water  from 
Feather  River.  After  winding  around  an 
island,  it  emptied  its  waters  back  into  the 
river  farther  down  stream,  so  that  fresh 
water  -was  continually  entering  and  flowing 
from  it.  Along  its  banks  grew  a  fringe  of 
tall  Cottonwood  trees.  ]\Iany  of  them  were 
completely  enveloped  with  wild  grapevines, 
which  bore  abundantly.  The  slough  was  full 
of  two  or  three  varieties  of  perch,  or,  as  w^e 
[57] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

called  them,  sun-fish ;  also  a  white  fish  called 
chub.  These  fish  were  all  very  palatable, 
and  I  caught  loads  of  them  In  the  fall, 
when  the  wild  grapes  were  ripe,  they  would 
fall  off  into  the  water  and  were  fed  upon 
by  the  fish.  Beneath  the  vine-clad  cotton- 
woods  the  fishing  was  always  good. 

One  afternoon  I  was  following  a  path 
just  outside  of  the  pasture  fence,  through 
heavy  wheat  stubble,  left  after  cutting  time. 
I  saw  a  i^air  of  pink  ears  ahead  of  me,  which 
I  knew  belonged  to  a  rabbit.  I  blazed  away 
at  the  ears.  The  gun,  as  usual,  did  execu- 
tion at  both  ends.  I  went  over  on  my  back. 
Wlien  I  regained  my  feet  I  saw  a  great 
commotion  on  the  firing  line.  Rabbits'  legs 
and  feathers  were  alternately  in  the  air.  In- 
vestigating, I  found  two  cottontail,  one  jack- 
i-abbit  and  three  quail  in  the  last  stages  of 
dissolution,  all  the  result  of  one  shot  at  two 
rabbit's  ears.  I  felt  bigger  than  Napoleon 
ever  did  as  I  gathered  up  my  kill  and  started 
for  home. 

On  one  of  my  wanderings  I  came  across 
the  })arrel  of  a  rifle  on  an  Indian  mound, 
wliich  had  been  plowed  up  when  we  were 
preparing  the  land  for  planting.  It  was  so 
coated  with  rust  that  the  metal  was  no 
[58] 


BOYHOOD     IN     EARLY     CALIFORNIA 

longer  visible.  Floods  had  covered  the 
ground  many  times.  Not  knowing  how  long 
it  had  been  buried  there,  I  dug  the  rust  and 
dirt  out  of  the  barrel  as  best  I  could  and 
took  it  home.  On  my  first  trip  to  Marys- 
ville  I  took  it  to  a  blacksmith  named  Alli- 
son, who  did  all  of  our  work,  and  asked  him 
to  cut  it  off  about  a  foot  from  the  breech 
end,  so  that  I  could  use  it  as  a  cannon.  He 
put  it  in  his  forge,  and  pulled  away  upon 
his  bellows  with  his  left  hand.  He  held  the 
muzzle  end  of  the  rifle  barrel  in  his  right 
hand,  and  poked  at  the  coals  with  it  so  as 
to  get  it  properl}'^  covered.  He  intended  to 
heat  it  and  then  cut  it  off.  All  at  once. 
Bang!  and  that  horrid  old  thing  went  off. 
The  bullet  went  through  Allison's  clothing 
and  slightly  cut  the  skin  on  his  side.  He 
was  the  worst  scared  man  in  all  California. 
When  he  felt  the  sting  of  the  bullet  he  threw 
up  his  hands  and  fell  on  his  back,  yelling 
lustily.  I  was  almost  as  badly  panic-strick- 
en, thinking  sureh^  he  was  killed.  I  began 
to  see  visions  of  the  gallows  and  the  hang- 
man's rope.  He  recovered  his  self-posses- 
sion, and  when  he  found  he  was  not  hurt, 
his  fear  turned  to  anger.  He  threw  the 
rifle  barrel  out  into  the  street,  and  then 
[59] 


OUTOFDOORS 

drove  me  out  of  the  shop.  When  I  got  out- 
side and  my  fear  had  left  me,  I  sat  down 
on  an  old  wagon  tongue  and  laughed  until 
I  was  entirely  out  of  breath.  Allison  came 
out,  and  my  laughter  must  have  been  con- 
tagious. He  leaned  up  against  a  post  and 
laughed  until  he  cried.  His  anger  had  left 
hun,  and  we  were  soon  fast  friends  again. 
At  the  proper  time  I  ventured  the  opinion 
that  the  rifle  could  not  go  off  again,  and 
tliat  it  would  be  well  enough  to  finish  the 
cutting  process.  He  consented  and  soon  had 
the  barrel  cut  off.  I  took  the  breech  end 
home  with  me,  and  endangered  my  life  with 
it  many  years.  I  generally  loaded  it  with 
blasting  powder,  for  the  reason  that  it  was 
usually  on  hand  and  cost  me  nothing,  and 
so  loaded,  the  cannon  made  more  noise  than 
had  I  used  gunpowder. 

During  the  campaign  in  which  Gen. 
George  B.  McClellan  ran  for  the  Presidency 
against  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  Democrats  of 
Northern  California  had  a  great  celebration 
which  lasted  two  or  three  days.  Among 
other  things  was  a  barbecue  at  the  race 
track,  two  or  three  miles  out  of  town.  Great 
pits  were  dug  which  were  filled  with  oak 
stumps  and  logs,  and  burned  for  about  twen- 
[60] 


BOYHOOD     IN     EARLY     CALIFORNIA 

ty-four  hours  })efore  the  cooking  began. 
These  logs  Avere  reduced  to  a  perfect  bed  of 
live  coals.  Over  these,  old-fashioned  South- 
ern negroes,  of  whom  there  were  many  in 
the  neighborhood,  cooked  quarters  of  beef, 
whole  sheep,  pigs,  chickens,  ducks,  turkeys 
and  geese.  There  were  at  least  five  thousand 
people  on  the  ground.  My  blacksmith 
friend,  Allison,  was  firing  a  salute  with  an 
old  cannon.  He  fired  the  cannon  after  it 
was  loaded,  with  an  iron  rod,  one  end  of 
which  was  kept  heated  in  a  small  fire.  I 
attended  to  the  fire  for  him.  After  the  dis- 
charge the  gun  was  wiped  out  with  a  wet 
swab.  The  powder  was  done  up  in  red  flan- 
nel cartridges.  Allison,  with  heavy,  buck- 
skin gloves  on  his  hands,  would  hold  his 
thumb  over  the  vent  or  tul)e  of  the  cannon. 
Two  men,  first  slitting  the  lower  end  of  the 
cartridge,  Avould  ram  it  into  the  gun.  Dur- 
ing each  loading  process  I  straddled  the  gun, 
looking  towards  Allison.  After  a  number  of 
discharges,  the  heat  burned  a  hole  through 
the  glove  that  Allison  was  using,  and  his 
thumb,  coming  in  contact  with  the  hot  metal, 
was  withdrawn  for  an  instant,  while  the  as- 
sistants were  sending  home  a  charge.  There 
was  an  immediate  premature  explosion.  I 
[61] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

was  sitting:  astride  the  gun,  and  felt  it  rise 
\\\^  and  ])n('k  like  a  horse.  Allison's  eyes 
were  ni'arl\-  ruined,  and  his  face  filled  with 
jKiwder,  tlie  marks  of  wdiich  stayed  with 
him  the  rest  of  his  life.  The  tw^o  assistants 
were  horribly  nmtilated,  but  neither  of 
them  was  killed.  For  a  time  I  thought  I 
never  would  hear  again.  My  ears  simply 
shut  up  and  refused  to  open  for  some  time. 

It  would  seem  that  this  disaster  should 
have  been  sufficient  for  one  day,  but  it  was 
not.  That  night  there  was  to  have  been 
public  speaking  in  front  of  the  Western 
Hotel,  by  many  prominent  politicians.  Op- 
posite the  hotel  was  a  two-story  brick  build- 
ing, with  a  veranda  built  around  it.  All  of 
the  offices  on  the  second  floor  opened  on  this 
veranda.  It  was  crowded  with  people.  The 
weight  became  excessive.  The  iron  posts 
next  to  the  sidewalk,  wdiich  sustained  the 
veranda,  slid  out,  and  the  platform  swung 
down  like  a  table  leaf,  spilling  everybody 
onto  the  sidewalk.  Eight  or  nine  people 
were  killed  outright,  and  many  more  very 
severely  injured. 

AVhen  about  twelve  years  of  age  I  got  hold 
r»f  two  greyhounds,  sisters,  named  "Flora" 
and  "Qiifcn."  During  the  winter  time  I 
[62] 


BOYHOOD     IN     EARLY     CALIFORNIA 

spent  much  time  chasing  jackral)bits.  In 
smmner  time  the  ground  got  so  hard  that 
the  dogs  would  not  run.  The  ground  hurt 
their  feet.  But  in  the  winter  we  had  great 
sport.  There  was  an  inmiense  open  plain 
east  of  our  property,  miles  long  and  miles 
wide,  and  level  as  a  floor.  There  was  a  dry 
weed,  without  leaves  and  of  a  reddish  color, 
which  grew  in  patches  all  over  this  plain. 
These  weed  patches  were  the  hiding  places 
of  the  jackrabbits.  The  game  was  exciting 
and  stirred  one's  sporting  blood.  I  found 
a  great  difference  in  the  speed  of  jackrab- 
bits— as  much  in  fact  as  in  the  speed  of 
blooded  horses.  Occasionally  I  would  get 
up  one  that  would  actually  run  away  from 
the  dogs,  which  were  a  fast  pair.  I  fol- 
lowed the  sport  so  persistently,  and  paid  so 
little  attention  to  fences  when  they  inter- 
fered with  my  going,  that  I  got  the  appel- 
lation in  the  neighborhood  of  "that  d d 

Graves  boy." 

When  we  got  up  a  hare,  away  we  went 
after  the  dogs,  just  as  fast  as  our  horses 
would  carry  us.  The  sport  was  hard  on 
horseflesh,  so  much  so  that  my  father  Anally 
forbade  me  running  any  of  our  horses  after 
the  hounds. 

[63] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

TiiiTi'  liNod  in  our  neigliborhood  a  man 
who  owned,  and  who  had  put  upon  the  track 
some  of  the  fastest  horses  in  the  State.  At 
this  time  he  had  retired  and  raised  horses 
for  the  fun  of  it.  He  also  had  some  good 
hounds.  He  onjoj^ed  the  sport  as  much  as 
J  (lid.  Having  plenty  of  good  horses,  he 
furnished  me  with  as  many  as  I  needed. 
We  spent  many  days  in  trying  to  determine 
which  of  us  had  the  best  dogs.  Incidentally, 
we  wrecked  some  promising  thoroughbreds. 
The  question  of  the  superiority  of  our  dogs 
was  never  settled.  We  always  left  the  door 
open  for  one  more  race. 

Our  place  was  the  haven  of  all  the  boys 
of  my  acquaintance.  When  I  was  attending 
school  at  Marysville  some  boy  came  home 
with  me  nearly  every  Friday  night.  We 
would  work  at  w^hatever  was  being  done  on 
tlie  place  Saturday  forenoon,  but  the  after- 
noon was  ours.  With  the  old  gun  we  took 
to  the  pasture,  hunted  for  game,  for  birds' 
nests  and  even  turtles'  nests.  The  mud 
turtle,  common  to  all  California  waters,  laid 
an  astounding  number  of  very  hard  shelled, 
o})long,  white  eggs,  considerably  larger  than 
a  ]>igeon's  egg.  They  deposited  them  in  the 
sand  on  tlic  shores  of  the  slough,  covering 
[64] 


BOYHOOD     IN     EARLY     CALIFORNIA 

tliem  up,  leaving  them  for  the  sun  to  hatch. 
They  always  left  some  tell-tale  marks  b}^ 
which  we  discovered  the  nest.  Often  we  got 
several  hundred  eggs  in  an  afternoon.  They 
were  very  rich,  and  of  good  flavor. 

There  were  many  coons  and  a  few  wild- 
cats in  the  pasture  woods.  AVith  the  aid  of 
a  dog  we  had  great  sport  with  them.  Hard 
pressed,  they  would  take  to  the  trees,  from 
which  we  would  shoot  them.  On  one  occa- 
sion we  found  four  little  spitfire,  ]3aby  lynx, 
which  we  carried  home  and  later  traded  to 
the  proprietor  of  a  menagerie.  We  got 
some  money  and  two  pair  of  fan-tail  pigeons 
in  exchange  for  them.  When  quite  small 
they  were  the  most  vicious,  untamable  little 
varmints  imaginable,  and  as  long  as  we  had 
them  our  hands  w^ere  badly  scratched  by 
them. 

On  the  bottom  land,  each  year,  we  had  a 
large  and  well  assorted  vegetable  garden. 
It  produced  much  more  than  w^e  could  pos- 
sibly use.  We  boys  would  sell  things  from 
the  garden  for  anuisement  and  pin  money. 
During  one  summer  vacation,  a  boy,  one 
Johnnie  Gray,  a  brother  of  L.  D.  C.  Gray 
of  this  city,  was  visiting  me.  We  took  a 
load  of  vegetables  to  Marysville.  After  sell- 
[  65  ] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

iiig  it,  getting  our  lunch,  paying  for  the 
shoeing  of  our  horse  (which  in  those  days 
cost  four  dollars),  and  buying  some  ammu- 
nition for  the  gun,  we  had  $1.50  left.  We 
quarreled  as  to  how  we  should  spend  this 
renmant.  Not  being  able  to  agree,  we  start- 
ed home  without  buying  anything.  On  the 
outskirts  of  Marysville  was  a  brewery.  The 
price  of  a  five-gallon  keg  of  beer  was  $1.50. 
We  concluded  to  take  a  keg  home  with  us. 
It  was  an  awfully  hot  summer  day,  and  the 
brewer  was  afraid  to  tap  the  keg,  thinking 
that  the  faucet  would  blow  out  under  the 
influence  of  the  heat  before  we  got  home. 
He  gave  us  a  wooden  faucet,  and  told  us 
how  to  use  it.  ''Hold  it  so,"  he  said,  show- 
ing us,  "hit  it  with  a  heavy  hammer,  watch 
the  bung,  and  when  you  have  driven  it  in 
pretty  well,  then  send  it  home  with  a  hard 
blow."  We  were  sure  we  could  do  it.  We 
drove  home,  put  the  beer  in  the  shade  by  the 
well,  spread  a  wet  cloth  over  it,  and  then 
put  our  horse  away.  My  parents  chided  us 
for  throwing  our  money  away  on  beer.  In 
the  cool  of  the  evening  we  concluded  to  tap 
the  keg.  One  of  us  held  the  faucet  and  the 
other  did  the  driving,  but  we  did  not  have 
the  success  predicted  for  us  by  the  brewer. 
[66] 


BOYHOOD     IN     EARLY    CALIFORNIA 

At  the  critical  moment  we  drove  in  the  bung, 
but  not  with  sufficient  momentum  to  fasten 
the  faucet.  It  flew  out  of  our  hands  into 
the  air,  followed  by  the  beer.  In  about  a 
minute  the  keg  was  entirely  empty.  We 
were  overwhelmingly  drenched  and  drowned 
by  the  escaping  beer,  but  never  got  a  single 
drop  of  it  to  drink. 

On  another  occasion  some  of  us  children 
were  coming  home  from  Marysville.  We 
were  driving  an  old  white  horse,  named 
''Jake,"  who  knew  us  and  loved  us  as  only 
a  good  horse  can.  He  submitted  to  our 
abuses,  shared  in  our  pleasure  and  would 
not  willingly  have  hurt  any  of  us.  We  were 
in  a  small,  one-seated  spring  wagon.  While 
driving  through  a  lane,  moved  on  b}^  the 
spirit  of  deviltry,  one  of  us  whipped  Jake 
into  a  run,  and  the  other  one  threw  the  reins 
over  a  fence  post.  The  result  was  as  could 
have  been  expected  by  any  sane-minded  in- 
dividual. The  horse  stopped  so  suddenly 
that  he  sat  down  on  the  singletree,  and  broke 
both  the  shafts  of  the  wagon.  We  were 
hurled  out  witli  great  force,  and  got  sundry 
bruises  and  a])rasions.  We  wired  up  the 
shafts  and  got  home  as  l)est  we  could,  and, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  we  lied  right  manfully 
'  [  67  ] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

as  to  the  cause  of  the  accident.  We  told  a 
story  of  a  dnuilvon  Mexican  on  horseback 
who  chased  ns  a  considerable  distance,  and 
finally  lassoed  the  horse,  bringing  him  to  so 
sudden  a  stop  as  to  cause  the  damage.  In- 
stead of  being  punished,  as  we  should  have 
been,  we  were  lauded  as  heroes  of  an  at- 
tempted kidnapping. 

One  of  my  uncles  made  for  us  a  four- 
wheeled  wagon,  the  hub,  spokes  and  axles 
being  made  out  of  California  oak — such  a 
wagon  as  you  can  buy  in  any  store  today, 
only  a  little  larger.  We  made  a  kite  of  large 
dimensions,  and  covered  the  frame  with  cot- 
ton from  a  couple  of  flour  sacks.  At  cer- 
tain times  of  the  year,  the  wind  across  the 
^farysville  plains  blew  with  great  velocity. 
This  kite,  in  a  strong  T^ind,  had  great  pull- 
ing capacity.  We  would  go  out  into  the 
plain,  put  up  the  kite,  and  fasten  the  string 
to  the  tongue  of  the  wagon,  three  or  four 
of  us  pile  on,  and  let  her  go.  The  speed 
that  we  would  travel  before  the  wind  by  this 
means  was  marvelous,  but  we  tried  the  kite 
trif'k  once  too  often.  We  got  to  going  so 
fast  we  could  not  slow  down  nor  successfully 
guide  the  wagon.  It  ran  over  an  old  stump, 
spilled  us  all  out,  and  kite  and  wagon  sailed 
[68] 


ARCH  ROCK,  SANTA  CRUZ 
ISLAND 


CU::VA  VALDEZ.  SANTA  CRUZ  ISLAND 


BOYHOOD     IN    EARLY    CALIFORNIA 

away  clear  across  Feather  River  into  Sutter 
County  and  we  never  saw  either  of  them 
again. 

The  boys  of  the  present  age  have  no  such 
opportunities  for  out-of-door  sports  as  we 
did  in  the  olden  days.  Now  it  is  baseball, 
automobile  exhibitions  and  moving  picture 
shows.  Increased  population,  highpower 
guns,  cultivation  of  the  soil,  the  breaking  up 
of  large  ranches  into  smaller  holdings,  have 
resulted  in  the  disappearance  of  much  of  the 
game  with  which  the  land  then  abounded. 

Fifty  years  ago  in  California,  conditions 
of  rural  life  were  necessarily  hard.  Our 
habitations  were  but  little  more  than  shelter 
from  the  elements.  We  had  none  of  the 
conveniences  of  modern  life.  At  our  house 
we  always  made  our  own  tallow  candles. 
We  hardened  the  candles  by  mixing  beeswax 
with  the  tallow.  We  made  the  beeswax  from 
comb  of  the  honey  taken  from  bee  trees. 
We  corned  our  own  beef  and  made  sauer- 
kraut by  the  barrel  for  winter  vise.  We 
canned  our  own  fruit,  made  jelly  and  jam 
from  wild  berries  and  wild  grapes.  We 
selected  perfect  ears  of  corn,  shelled  it  at 
home,  ran  it  through  a  fanning  machine, 
and  then  had  the  corn  ground  into  meal  for 
[69] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

our  own  eoiisumption.  We  raised  our  own 
poultry  and  made  our  own  butter  and  cheese, 
with  plenty  to  sell;  put  up  our  own  lard, 
shoulders,  ham  and  bacon  and  made  our 
own  hominy.  The  larder  was  always  well 
filled.  The  mother  of  a  family  was  its  doc- 
tor. A  huge  dose  of  blue  mass,  followed  by 
castor  oil  and  quinine,  was  supposed  to  cure 
everything,  and  it  generally  did.  In  the 
cities  luxuries  were  few.  To  own  a  piano 
was  the  privilege  of  the  very  wealthy. 

Speaking  of  pianos,  in  the  flood  of  1863, 
before  Marysville  was  protected  by  its  levee, 
which  is  now  twenty-five  feet  high,  the  fam- 
ily cow  swam  into  the  parlor  of  one  of  the 
best  mansions  of  the  towm,  throvigh  the  win- 
dow. When  the  flood  waters  had  subsided, 
she  was  found  drowned  on  top  of  the  piano. 

Life  under  the  conditions  here  given  w^as 
necessarily  hard.  Our  amusements  were 
few.  We,  who  lived  in  the  country,  had 
plenty  of  good  air  and  sound  sleep — two 
thinf^s  often  denied  the  city  resident.  Our 
s])oi*ts  were  few  and  simple,  but  of  such  a 
nature  that  they  toughened  the  fiber  and 
strengthened  the  muscles  of  our  bodies,  thus 
fitting  us  to  withstand  the  heavy  drafts  on 
our  vitality  that  the  hurly-burly  of  modern 
life  entails  upon  the  race. 
[70] 


LILY     EOCK,     IDYLLWILD 


LAST    QUAIL    SHOOT    OF 
THE    YEAR    1911 

Were  I  musically  inclined,  I  could  very 
appropriately  sing,  "Darling,  I  Am  Grow- 
ing Old."  The  realization  of  this  fact,  as 
unwelcome  as  it  is,  is  from  time  to  time 
forced  upon  me. 

On  Friday,  November  10,  1911,  I  went  to 
the  Westminster  Gun  Club,  in  an  open  ma- 
chine, through  wind  and  storm.  Got  up  the 
next  morning  at  5  o'clock,  had  a  duck  shoot, 
drove  back  thirty  miles  to  Los  Angeles,  ar- 
riving there  at  11:30  a.  m.  At  1  o'clock  I 
drove  to  my  home,  and  at  2  o'clock  was  off 
for  Ferris  Valley  on  a  quail  shuot.  Had  a 
good  outing,  with  much  hard  labor.  The 
next  day  I  got  home  at  half  past  five,  com- 
pletely done  up. 

As  I  went  to  retire,  I  had  a  good,  stiff, 
nervous  chill.  So  you  can  well  see  that  I 
can  no  longer  stand  punislnnent,  and  am 
"growing  old."  As  I  lay  there  and  shook, 
I  said  to  myself,  "Old  fellow,  you  will  soon 
be  a  'has-been.'  Your  gun  and  fishing  rod 
will  soon  decorate  your  shooting  case  as  or- 
naments, rather  than  as  things  of  utility." 
[71] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

Ah,  well,  let  it  be  so !  The  memory  of  pleas- 
ant days  when  youth  and  strength  were 
mine ;  days  when  the  creel  was  full,  and  game 
limits  came  my  way,  will  be  with  me  still. 
I  would  not  exchange  the  experience  I  have 
had  with  rod  and  gun  for  all  the  money  any 
millionaire  in  the  world  possesses. 

On  my  trip  to  the  grounds  of  the  Quail 
Valley  Land  Company,  some  thirty  miles  be- 
low Riverside,  two  members  of  the  club  and 
my  wife  accompanied  me.  We  w^ere  in  one 
of  my  good,  old  reliable  Franklin  cars,  and 
from  Ontario  to  Riverside  we  bucked  a 
strong  head  wind  that  was  cold  and  pitiless. 
It  necessarily  impeded  our  progress,  as  we 
had  on  a  glass  front,  and  the  top  was  up,  and 
yet  we  made  the  run  of  seventy-six  miles  in 
three  hours  and  a  quarter  without  ever 
touching  the  machine.  In  fact,  none  of  the 
jjarty  got  out  of  the  machine,  from  start  to 
finish. 

The  big,  open  fireplace  at  Newport's  home, 
and  the  bountiful,  well-cooked  supper  with 
wliich  we  were  greeted,  were  well  calculated 
to  make  us  happy  and  contented.  The  long 
drive  in  the  wind  rendered  all  of  us  sleepy, 
and  by  9  o'clock  we  had  retired.  I  never 
woke  up  until  6  o'clock  next  morning. 
[72] 


LAST     QUAIL     SHOOT 

SHOOTING  GROUNDS. 

After  breakfast  we  proceeded  in  our  ma- 
chine to  the  shooting  ground.  The  sky  was 
heavily  overcast  with  watery,  wicked  look- 
ing clouds.  Eifts  in  the  sky,  here  and  there, 
let  some  frozen  looking  sunbeams  through, 
but  there  was  no  warmth  in  their  rays.  We 
had  our  first  shoot  on  the  edge  of  a  grain 
field,  but  the  birds  quickly  flew  to  some  high 
hills  to  the  west. 

Rounding  the  pass  through  these  hills,  I 
never  saw  the  Perris  Valley  more  weirdly 
beautiful.  The  clouds  were  high.  On  the 
north  Mt.  San  Bernardino  loomed  up,  grim, 
snow-caj^ped  and  forbidding.  To  the  east 
old  Tahquitz,  guardian  of  the  passes  to  the 
desert,  reared  his  snow-capped  head,  far 
above  the  surrounding  country.  To  the 
south  Mt.  Palomar  stretched  his  long,  lazy 
looking  form,  with  his  rounded  back  and  in- 
dented outline,  from  east  to  west.  His  dis- 
tance from  us  made  him  look  like  a  line  of 
low,  outlying  hills,  instead  of  the  sturdy  old 
mountain  that  he  is.  All  of  these  mountains 
bore  most  exquisite  purple  hues.  The  same 
coloring  was  assumed  by  those  groups  of 
lesser  hills  that,  cone-like,  are  scattered  over 
the  easterly  edge  of  the  Perris  Valley,  and 
[73] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

which  separate  the  Hemet  and  the  San  Ja- 
cinto country  from  the  rest  of  the  valley. 
The  coloring  of  the  floor  of  the  valley  itself 
was  particularly  exquisite.  There  was  just 
enoug-h  light,  just  enough  of  sunbeams 
struggling  through  the  sodden  clouds  to  illu- 
minate, here  and  there,  an  alfalfa  field,  or 
here  and  there  a  grove  of  trees,  so  as  to  bring 
them  out  in  startling  contrast  to  the  somber 
colors  of  the  shaded  portions  of  the  valley. 
But  with  it  were  signs  of  the  dying  year,  a 
premonition  of  storms  to  come,  storms  un- 
pleasant wdiile  they  last,  but  revivifying  in 
their  effects. 

MANY  QTJAIL — TOO  COLD. 

In  the  fifteen  years  during  which  I  have 
shot  upon  these  grounds,  I  never  got  up  more 
or  larger  bands  of  quail  than  we  did  that 
morning.  The  day  was  too  cold  for  good 
shooting.  Give  me  the  good  old  summer 
time,  with  the  thermometer  about  80  degrees, 
for  good  quail  shooting.  In  the  cool  days 
tlie  birds  run  or  get  up  and  fly  a  half  mile 
at  a  time.  They  wall  not  scatter  out  and  lie 
close,  so  that  you  can  get  them  up  one  by 
one  and  fill  your  bags.  On  the  cold  days  they 
also  break  cover  at  very  long  range.  They 
[74] 


THE    ENTRANCE    AND    MISSION    ARCHES,    GLENWOOD 
MISSION    INN,    RIVERSIDE 


MAOWOLIA    AVENUE    AND      GOVERNMENT     INDIAN 
SCHOOL.     RIVERSIDE 


LAST     QUAIL     SHOOT 

led  us  a  merry  chase  up  the  steepest  hills 
and  down  the  most  abrupt  declivities.  All 
of  the  time  we  were  slowly  making  good. 

Lloyd  Newport  was  there  on  his  buckskin 
horse.  Now  you  could  see  him  w^ay  up  on  a 
hillside,  then  again  down  in  some  deep  val- 
ley, running  like  mad  to  check  the  flight,  or 
turn  the  running  march  of  some  band  of 
birds  that  was  leading  those  of  us  on  foot  a 
double-quick  run.  Shooting  as  he  rode,  now 
to  the  right,  now  to  the  left,  then  straight 
ahead,  he  got  his  share  of  the  birds. 

Little  Fred  Newport,  only  14  j^ears  old, 
was  shooting  like  a  veteran,  and  long  before 
the  rest  of  us  had  scored,  he  proudly  an- 
nounced that  he  had  the  limit.  The  final 
round-up  found  us  with  109  birds  for  seven 
guns — a  good  shoot,  under  very  adverse  cir- 
cumstances. We  had  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  we  left  plenty  of  birds  on  the 
ground  for  next  year. 

The  quail  shooting  of  1911  is  at  an  end. 
Only  the  memory  of  it  remains.  I  shall 
cherish  the  memory  deeply  in  my  affections, 
and  let  it  stir  my  enthusiasm  for  the  out- 
of-door  life  when  the  world  seems  all  balled 
up,  and  things  are  going  wrong. 

[75] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

THE  RATTLESNAKE. 

Wliile  proceeding  along  an  unfrequented 
road,  with  sage  brush  on  each  side  of  it,  we 
ran  across  a  rattlesnake,  about  four  feet 
long,  and  of  good  circumference,  twisted  up 
into  a  most  peculiar  position.  Investigation 
found  that,  notwithstanding  the  coolness  of 
the  day,  he  was  foraging  for  game,  and  was 
engaged  in  swallowing  a  good-sized  kan- 
garoo rat.  The  tail  of  the  rat  protruded 
several  inches  from  his  mouth.  The  snake 
glared  at  us,  but  made  no  effort  to  escape  or 
fight.  He  seemed  dazed,  probably  half 
choked  by  his  efforts  to  swallow  the  rat.  We 
straightened  him  out  on  the  ground  and  blew 
his  head  off  with  a  shotgun.  A¥e  then  dis- 
gorged the  rat,  which  was  at  least  four  or 
five  inches  long,  and  an  inch  and  a  half  in 
diameter.  The  snake  was  then  quickly 
skinned.    He  had  eleven  rattles  and  a  button. 

Snakes  eat  the  eggs  and  the  young  of  the 
quail.  Tn  view  of  the  ravages  by  snakes, 
hawks,  weasles,  skunks,  wildcats  and  coyotes 
T  do  not  see  how  there  are  any  quail  left  for 
the  sportsmen.  The  fight  of  these  maraud- 
ers is  constantly  going  on,  while  the  sports- 
men 's  efforts  are  at  present  limited  to  a  very 
short  period. 


LAST      QUAIL     SHOOT 

At  a  quarter  after  two  we  left  Newport's 
for  lioiiie.  We  took  in  a  little  gasoline  at 
Riverside.  This  was  the  only  stop  made  on 
tlie  home  run,  which  was  accomplished  in 
three  hours  and  a  quarter  (seventy-six 
miles)  with  a  perfect  score  so  far  as  the 
machine  was  concerned. 

NATURE  AT  HER  LOVELIEST. 

We  did  not  encounter  the  cruel  wind  in 
returning  that  buffeted  us  on  the  outward 
trip.  I  never  saw  the  San  Gabriel  Valley 
more  beautiful  than  it  was  that  afternoon. 
As  we  bowled  along  the  road  this  side  of 
San  Dimas,  the  entire  valley  lay  before  us. 
To  the  west  were  the  rugged  Sierra  Madre 
Mountains ;  on  the  east,  the  San  Jose  Hills. 
They  connected  with  the  Puente  Hills  to  the 
south.  West  of  these  came  the  hills  of  the 
Eancho  La  Merced,  running  from  the  San 
Gabriel  River  westerly,  and  still  west  of 
them  come  the  hills,  which  run  east  from  the 
Arroyo  Seco,  north  of  the  Bairdstown  coun- 
try. From  our  position  these  hills  all  seemed 
to  connect  without  au}^  breaks  or  passes  in 
them.  Thus  the  valley  before  us  was  one 
mountain-and-hill-bound  amphitheater.  The 
sky  was  overcast  by  grayish  clouds.  The 
[77]' 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

Sim  liiing  low  in  the  west,  directly  in  front 
of  us.  How  gorgeous  was  the  coloring  of 
the  sky  and  valley!  How  the  orchards  and 
vineyards  were  illuminated !  How  the  colors 
lingered  and  seemed  to  fondle  every  grow- 
ing thing,  and  paint  each  rock  and  point  of 
hill  as  no  artist  could!  The  sun  hung  in 
one  position  for  quite  a  time  before  taking 
its  final  dip  below  the  horizon.  The  clouds 
assumed  a  golden  tinge,  turning  to  burn- 
ished copper.  Through  breaks  or  irregular 
rifts  therein,  we  got  glimpses  of  the  sky  be- 
yond of  an  opalescent  blue  in  strong  contrast 
with  the  crimson  coloring  of  the  clouds,  all 
of  which  were  intensely  illuminated  by  the 
setting  sun.  Underneath  this  vast  sea  of 
riotous  coloring  there  was  a  subdued,  in- 
tense light,  which  I  can  not  describe  or  ac- 
count for.  It  brought  every  object  in  the 
valley  plainly  into  view,  lifted  it  into  space, 
and  illuminated  it.  After  we  had  passed 
Azusa  we  chanced  to  look  back  at  ''Old 
Baldy"  and  the  Cucamonga  peaks.  They 
were  in  a  blaze  of  glorious  light,  purple, 
pink,  crimson,  fiery  red,  all  mingled  indis- 
criminately, yet  all  preserved  in  their  indi- 
virliial  intensity. 

Oh,  land  so  rare,  where  such  visions  of 
[78] 


HEMET    VALLEY    FROM    FOOTHILLS   ON   THE   SOUTH 


LAST     QUAIL     SHOOT 

delight  are  provided  by  the  unseen  powers 
for  our  delectation !  As  I  surveyed  this  vast 
acreage,  evidencing  the  highest  cultivation, 
with  princely  homes,  vast  systems  of  irriga- 
tion, with  orange  orchards  and  lemon  groves 
in  every  stage  of  development,  from  the 
plants  in  the  seed  beds  to  trees  of  maturity 
and  full  production,  I  congratulated  myself 
on  living  in  such  an  age,  and  amid  such  en- 
vironments. 

Let  us  appreciate,  enjoy  and  defend  until 
our  dying  day,  this  glorious  land,  unswept 
by  blizzards,  untouched  by  winter's  cruel 
frosts,  unscathed  by  the  torrid  breath  of  sul- 
try summer,  a  land  of  perpetual  sunshine, 
where  roses,  carnations,  heliotrope,  and  a 
thousand  rare,  choice  and  delicate  flowers 
bloom  in  the  open  air  continually,  where 
in  the  spring  tune  the  senses  are  oppressed 
by  the  odor  of  orange  and  lemon  blossoms, 
and  where  the  orchards  yield  a  harvest  so 
fabulous  in  returns  as  to  be  almost  beyond 
human  comprehension. 


[79] 


AN  AUTO  TRIP  THROUGH  THE 
SIERRAS. 

TULE  RIVER  AND  YOSEMITE. 

I  have  been  in  California  fifty-four  years. 
During  all  of  this  time  I  had  never  visited 
the  Yosemite.  Before  it  was  too  late  I  de- 
termined to  go  there.  We  started  in  June, 
1911. 

Accompanied  by  Mrs.  Graves,  my  son 
Francis  and  a  friend,  Dr.  A.  C.  Macleish,  we 
left  Alhambra,  June  seventh  of  this  year  at 
seven  o'clock  a.  m.  We  passed  through  Gar- 
vanza,  Glendale  and  Tropico,  and  were  soon 
on  the  San  Fernando  road.  The  run  through 
the  town  of  that  name  and  through  the  tun- 
nel, recently  constructed  to  avoid  the  New- 
hall  grade,  was  made  in  good  time  and  with- 
out incident. 

NEWHALL. 

At  Newhall  we  procured  and  carried  with 
us  a  five-gallon  can  of  gasoline.  A  short  dis- 
tance out  of  Saugus,  we  turned  into  the  San 
Francisquito  Canyon  road.  Shortly  after- 
wards a  brand  new  inner  tube  on  the  right 
[80] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

rear  wheel  went  completely  to  pieces.  It 
had  been  too  highly  cured  and  could  not 
stand  the  heat.  We  replaced  it  with  an- 
other one,  and  were  soon  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  the  stream  which  meanders  down 
the  canyon.  Constantly  climbing  the  grade, 
we  were  whirling  from  sunshine  to  shadow 
alternately  as  the  road  was  overhung  with 
or  free  from  trees. 

OLD  MEMORIES  AROUSED. 

I  could  not  help  recalling  my  trip  over  the 
same  road  with  my  old  friend,  Mr.  A.  C. 
Chauvin,  on  the  third  day  of  October,  1876. 
The  road  was  fairly  good.  Our  machine 
was  working  nicely,  the  day  a  pleasant  one, 
and  the  trip  enjoyable.  In  a  few  hours  we 
reached  Elizabeth  Lake.  I  pointed  out  the 
very  spot  at  which  Chauvin  and  myself 
camped  thirty-five  years  before. 

Ah,  the  fleeting  years !  How  quickly  they 
have  sped !  AVhat  experiences  we  have  had ! 
What  pleasures  we  have  enjoyed!  What 
sorrows  endured  in  thirty-five  years !  Well 
it  is,  that  then  the  future  was  not  unfolded 
to  me,  and  that  all  the  enthusiasm  and  hope 
and  ambition  of  }'outh  led  me  on  to  the  goal, 
which  has  brought  me  so  much  joy,  as  well 
as  much  sorrow.  Momentous  events  have 
[81] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

afforted  not  only  my  o^m  life,  but  the  life 
of  nations  in  these  thirty-five  years. 

CROSSING  ANTELOPE  VALLEY. 

We  passed  the  lake,  turning  down  the 
grade  into  Antelope  Valley.  After  several 
miles  of  very  rolling  country,  we  halted  un- 
der some  ahnond  trees  in  a  deserted  orchard 
for  lunch.  The  grasshoppers  were  thicker 
than  people  on  a  hot  Sunday  at  Venice  or 
Ocean  Park  in  the  "good  old  summer  time." 
We  managed  to  eat  our  limch  without  eating 
any  of  the  hoppers,  but  there  wasn't  much 
margin  in  our  favor  in  the  performance. 
Before  starting  we  emptied  our  can  of  gaso- 
line into  the  tank.  Soon  we  intercepted  the 
road  leading  from  Palmdale  to  Fairmont 
and  Neenach.  We  passed  both  of  these 
places,  then  Quail  Lake  and  Bailey  Hotel. 
We  were  soon  at  Lebec.  Then  came  the 
beautiful  ride  past  Castac  Lake,  and  down 
the  canyon,  under  the  noble  white  oak  trees, 
which  are  the  pride  of  Tejon  Ranch.  We 
passed  through  Ft.  Tejon  with  its  adobe 
buildings  already  fallen  or  rapidly  falling 
into  ruinous  decay.  Still  descending  through 
the  lower  reaches  of  the  canyon,  we  took  the 
final  dip  down  the  big  grade  and  rolled  out 
[82] 


■^ 


ORANGi.     GKOVLb     LOOKING     SOUTHEAST    ACROSS    HEMET 
VALLEY,    CALIFORNIA 


VIEW     FROM 
DRIVE. 


SERRA     MEMORIAL    CROSS.    HUNTINGTON 
RUBIDOUX    MOUNTAIN.     RIVERSIDE 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

into  the  valley.  A  pleasant  stream  of  water 
followed  the  road  out  into  the  plains,  at 
which  sleek,  fat  cattle  drank,  or  along  whose 
banlis  they  lolled  listlessly,  having  already 
slaked  their  thirst.  We  whirled  past  the 
dilapidated  ranch  buildings  put  down  in  the 
guide  books  as  Rose  Station.  From  this 
point,  since  my  trip  over  this  country  a  year 
ago,  much  of  the  road  to  Bakersfield  has 
been  fenced. 

CLOUD  EFFECTS. 

While  crossing  Antelope  Valley  during 
the  afternoon,  I  observed  a  most  wonderful 
cloud  effect.  A  perfectly  white  cloud  hung 
over  Frazier  Mountain.  Its  base  was  miles 
long  and  as  straight  as  if  it  had  been  sheared 
off  by  machinery.  Its  top  was  as  irregular 
as  its  base  was  finished.  It  extended  into 
the  sky  farther  than  the  blue  old  mountain 
did  above  the  surrounding  country.  Irreg- 
ular in  shape,  it  assumed  the  form  of  moun- 
tains, valleys,  forests,  streams,  castles  and 
turrets.  I  watched  it  for  hours,  apparently 
it  never  moved.  It  hung  there  as  immovable 
as  the  mountain  beneath  it.  It  was  at  once 
an  emblem  of  purity  and  apparent  stability. 
After  we  had  passed  Fairmont,  my  attention 
was  diverted  from  it  for  a  short  time,  not 
[83] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

over  ten  ininutcs,  and  when  again  looking 
for  my  cloud,  it  was  gone.  Every  vestige 
of  it  had  vanished  completely,  and  in  its 
place  was  the  blue  sky,  its  color  intensified 
by  reason  of  its  recent  meager  obscuration. 

BAKERSFIELD. 

We  reached  Bakersfield  early  in  the  even- 
ing, having  made  the  run  of  one  hundred 
and  forty-six  miles,  over  a  heavy  mountain 
range,  on  fifteen  gallons  of  gasoline.  This 
I  call  a  good  performance  for  any  six-cyl- 
inder car.  Coming  down  the  Tejon  Canyon, 
we  passed  the  only  Joe  Desmond  of  Aque- 
duct fame,  with  some  companions,  taking 
lunch  by  the  roadside.  He  had  come  from 
Mojave,  He  was  bound  for  Bakersfield  to 
buy  hay. 

OFF  FOR  PORTERVILLE. 

We  left  Bakersfield  at  seven  a.  m.  next 
morning,  over  an  excellent  road,  for  Porter- 
ville.  Fifty  miles  after  starting  we  picked 
up  a  nail  and  had  a  flat  tire.  Porterville 
was  reached  at  eleven  o'clock.  As  a  side 
trip  we  were  going  to  a  camp  of  the  San 
Joarjuin  Light  &  Power  Company,  way  up 
on  the  Tule  River,  for  the  purpose  of  visit- 
[84] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

ing  a  grove  of  big  trees  located  in  that  vicin- 
ity. As  we  had  many  miles  of  uphill  work 
ahead  of  us,  Ave  concluded  not  to  delay  at 
Porterville  for  lunch.  We  replenished  our 
lunch  basket  of  the  day  before  from  a  gro- 
cer}^ store,  filled  our  tank  with  gasoline  and 
sped  on.  At  twelve  o'clock,  a  few  miles  be- 
yond the  small  village  of  Springville,  which 
will  shortly  be  connected  with  the  outside 
world  by  a  railroad  now  in  process  of  con- 
struction, we  halted  for  lunch  in  a  shady 
spot  on  one  of  the  forks  of  the  Tule  River. 

For  many  miles  before  reaching  Porter- 
ville, Ave  saAv  quite  extensive  CAudence  of  the 
orange  industry.  There  Avere  many  groA^es 
in  full  bearing  and  miles  and  miles  of  young 
groves  but  a  fcAv  years  planted  or  just  set 
out. 

TITLE  RIVER  CAXYON. 

From  Porterville  to  Springville,  the  can- 
yon of  the  Tule  RiA^er  is  quite  AAdde.  The 
course  of  the  river  itself  is  marked  by  a 
heaA^y  growth  of  timber,  some  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  AAidth.  Orange  and  lemon  groves 
haA^e  been  planted  in  favored  localities  on 
the  bench  lands,  here  and  there,  but  not  con- 
tinuousl}^  There  is  much  hilly  land  back 
of  the  cauA^on  proper,  covered  Avith  wild  oats 
[85] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

and  evidently  devoted  entirely  to  pasture. 
Shortly  after  our  noon  halt  we  came  to  the 
l)ower  plant  of  the  Mount  Whitney  Power 
Company.  Here  they  told  us  our  journey 
would  end  twelve  miles  further  up  the 
stream.  From  this  point  the  canyon  nar- 
rowed rapidly  until  it  became  a  mere  gorge. 
Wliile  precipitously  steep,  the  roadbed  was 
good.  It  ran  along  the  left  side  of  the  can- 
yon, going  up.  At  all  times  we  had  the  right 
hand  side  of  the  canyon  in  plain  view.  Far 
above  us  on  our  side,  now  in  plain  sight, 
now  hidden  by  a  projecting  point  or  tall 
timber,  was  the  flume  of  the  Mount  Whitney 
Power  Company,  which  carried  water  from 
the  river  to  the  powerhouse  we  had  passed. 
As  we  ascended,  we  continually  got  nearer 
to  this  flume,  which  was  run  on  a  grade,  and 
at  last  we  passed  under  it.  We  saw  it  short- 
ly afterwards  terminate  at  an  intake  in  the 
canyon  below  our  road.  Prom  here  on  I 
never  enjoyed  a  more  beautiful  ride.  To 
my  mind  there  is  nothing  more  attractive 
tlian  a  California  mountain  canyon  and  its 
thickly-wooded  sides.  Below  us,  foam-cov- 
ered, white,  radiant  with  light  and  beauty, 
ran  tlie  Tule  Piver.  In  its  rapid  descent, 
confined  to  the  bottom  of  the  canyon,  it 
[86] 


SOME  BARLEY 


VICTORIA  AVENUE,  RIVERSIDE 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

hurtled  along  over  water-worn  boulders  of 
great  size,  its  swollen  masses  of  surging  wa- 
ters forming  here  and  there  cascades,  im- 
mense pools  and  miniature  falls.  It  kept 
up  a  loud  and  constant  roar,  not  too  loTid, 
but  with  just  enough  energy  to  be  grateful 
to  the  ear. 

THE  CANYON  A  BOWER  OF  BEAUTY. 

We  had  left  behind  us  the  scattering  tim- 
ber of  the  lower  foothills.  The  sides  of  the 
canyon  were  clothed  and  garlanded  in  vari- 
ous shades  of  green  from  top  to  bottom. 
Black  oak  trees  in  their  fresh,  new  garbs 
of  early  summer,  intermingled  with  stately 
pines.  All  space  between  these  trees  was 
filled  with  a  rich  growth  of  all  the  flowering 
shrubs  known  to  our  California  mountains. 
In  the  damper  places  a  wild  tangle  of  ferns 
and  vines  and  bracken  entirely  hid  the  earth 
from  view.  Lilacs,  white  and  purple,  in  full 
bloom  emitted  a  fragrance  which  rendered 
the  air  intoxicating  and  nearly  overpowered 
one 's  senses.  Mingled  with  these  bushes  were 
the  Cascara  Segrada,  bright-leafed  maples, 
and  the  brilliantly  colored  stems  and  vividly 
green  leaves  of  the  Manzanitas,  some  in  full 
bloom,  some  in  berries  set.  The  graceful 
[87] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

red  bud,  foimd  in  luxuriant  growth  in  Lake 
County,  was  also  here.  Likewise  the  elders, 
with  tiieir  heav}^  clusters  of  yellow  blossoms. 
The  buckeye,  with  its  long,  graceful  blos- 
soms, reached  far  up  above  the  under- 
growth. The  mountain  sage,  differing  ma- 
terially from  the  valley  sage  and  bearing  a 
yellow  flower,  was  also  here.  The  mountain 
balm,  with  its  long  purple  blossoms,  mingled 
its  colors  with  its  neighbors.  Occasionally 
an  humble  thistle,  with  its  blossom  of  purple 
base  and  intense  pink  center,  thrust  up  its 
head  through  some  leafy  bower.  Crowding 
all  of  these  was  the  grease  wood  with  its 
yellow  bloom,  the  snow-bush  or  buckthorn, 
with  a  blossom  resembling  white  lilac  and 
fully  as  sweet,  and  all  the  other  shrubs  of 
our  mountain  chaparrals,  all,  however, 
blended  into  one  beautiful  and  fragrant  bou- 
quet, so  exquisitely  formed  that  man's  in- 
genuity could  never  equal  it  in  arranging 
floral  decorations.  Then  again  a  turn  in  the 
road  would  bring  us  great  masses  of  tall 
dog^^ood  with  its  shining  leaves  and  beauti- 
ful white  blossoms  with  yellow  centers. 
They  also,  like  the  ferns,  sought  the  cooler, 
darker  spots.  Never  before  have  I  seen  the 
California  slippery  elm  or  leatherwood  tree 
■  [88] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

in  such  perfect  form.  It  makes  a  stately 
branching  tree.  Its  great  yellow  blossoms 
ahnost  cover  the  limits.  The  shade  of  the 
flower  is  a  deep  golden  yellow.  When 
mingled  with  the  dogwood,  the  intense  green 
of  the  foliage  of  the  two  trees,  coupled  with 
the  white  and  yellow  decorations,  made  a 
bouquet  of  rarest  beauty.  Thimble-berry 
bushes,  rich  in  color,  bright  of  leaf  and  rank 
of  growth,  sported  their  great  white  blos- 
soms with  much  grace  and  dignity.  Yellow 
buttercups,  carnations,  violets  of  three  col- 
ors, white,  yellow  and  purple,  half  hid  their 
graceful  heads  under  the  tangled  growth  of 
various  grasses  by  the  wayside.  The  wild 
iris  moved  their  varicolored  flowers  with 
each  passing  breath  of  air. 

Hyacinths,  lupins  and  hollyhocks  were 
freely  interspersed  with  the  glistening  foli- 
age of  the  shrubbery.  The  tiger  and  yellow 
mountain  lilies  were  not  yet  in  flower,  al- 
though we  frequently  saw  their  tall  stems 
bearing  undeveloped  blossoms.  The  colum- 
bine and  white  and  j^ellow  clematis  were 
much  in  evidence,  and  presented  a  charming 
picture  as  they  wound  in  and  out,  and  over 
and  around  the  green  leaves  of  the  shrubs, 
displaying  their  creamy  blossoms  with  a 
[89] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

dainty  air  and  self-conscious  superiority.  In 
open  places  beneath  the  forest  trees,  where 
no  large  underbrush  grew,  a  fern-like,  low 
shrub,  loealh"  known  as  bear  clover,  com- 
pletely hid  the  earth.  It  bore  a  white  blos- 
som with  yellow  center,  for  all  the  world  like 
that  of  a  strawberry.  To  my  surprise,  the 
Spanish  bayonets  in  full  bloom  reared  their 
heads  above  the  lower  growing  evergreens. 
AA'e  saw  them  no  further  north  than  the  Tule 
River  canyon.  What  a  picture  the  sunlight 
made  on  the  mountain  tops  and  the  sloping 
sides  of  the  lateral  valleys  of  the  canyon! 
All,  that  river,  how  beautiful  it  was !  There 
it  ran  below  us,  in  the  very  bottom  of  the 
canyon,  ever  moving,  ever  turbulent,  ever 
flashing  in  the  sunlight,  ever  tossing  its 
foamy  spray  far  up  into  the  air,  a  thing  of 
life,  of  joy  and  ecstatic  force.  It  sang  and 
laughed  and  gurgled  aloud  in  the  happiness 
of  its  life  and  freedom.  Above  was  the  sky, 
pure  and  radiantly  blue.  Its  exquisite  col- 
oring was  intensified  by  the  wild  riot  of 
color  Ijeneath  it.  We  still  ascended.  Each 
breath  of  air  we  drew  was  rich  with  the 
odor  of  pine  and  fir,  mint  and  balsam.  The 
lino  of  survey  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
r-anyon  from  us,  marking  the  course  of  the 
[90] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

tunnel  now  being  eonstru(*ted  by  the  San 
Joaquin  Light  &  Power  Compam^  which 
terminates  at  a  point  on  the  mountain  side 
at  the  junction  of  a  side  canyon  sixteen  hun- 
dred feet  aboye  the  stream,  w^as  now  on  a 
leyel  with  us.  We  could  see  ahead  of  us 
where  it,  like  the  flume  earlier  in  the  day, 
reached  the  riyer  leyel.  At  this  point  we 
knew  our  journey  ended.  We  were  pulling 
slowly  up  a  stiff,  nasty  grade,  when  all  at 
once  a  loud  crash  announced  the  demolition 
of  some  of  the  internal  machinery  of  our 
car.    We  stopped  from  necessity. 

*'^AUTO'^  BREAKS  DOAyX. 

Our  ''auto"  was  a  helpless  thing.  When 
the  clutch  was  thrown  in,  it  could  only  re- 
spond with  a  loud,  discordant  whirring.  It 
made  no  forward  moyement.  We  all  thought 
our  differential  had  gone  to  smash.  One 
of  our  jDarty  went  on  ahead,  and  at  a  nearby 
camp  we  telephoned  Mr.  Hill,  superintend- 
ent of  the  power  company,  of  our  predica- 
ment. He  directed  a  man  who  was  working 
a  pair  of  heayy  horses  on  a  road  near  by,  to 
hitch  onto  us  and  haul  us  up  to  his  place,  a 
mile  or  so  distant.  All  of  us,  except  Mrs. 
Grayes,  and  our  chauffeur,  who  had  to  steer 
the  car  and  work  the  brakes,  walked.  It  was 
[91] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

slow  going,  but  the  journey  finally  ended. 
We  found  a  good,  clean  camp,  clean  beds 
and  a  good  supper  awaiting  us.  That  night 
we  reaped  the  sweet  repose  which  comes 
from  exertion  in  the  open  air. 

Early  next  morning  we  blocked  up  our  car 
and  took  off  the  rear  axle,  uncoupled  the  dif- 
ferential case  and  found  everything  there 
intact.  We  then  removed  the  caps  from  the 
wheel  hubs  and  took  out  the  floating  axles, 
or  drive  shafts.  One  of  them  was  broken 
into  two  pieces.  It  either  had  a  flaw  in  it 
when  made  or  had  crystallized,  no  one  could 
determine  which.  We  got  Los  Angeles  by 
phone,  ordered  the  necessary  parts  by  ex- 
press to  Porterville,  and,  think  of  it,  we  had 
these  parts  delivered  to  us  at  two  o'clock  the 
next  afternoon! 

THE  SODA  SPRING. 

We  spent  the  rest  of  Friday,  June  ninth, 
in  visiting  a  magnificent  soda  and  iron 
spring,  a  mile  above  camp,  which  is  for  all 
the  world  like  the  spring  of  the  same  quality 
in  Runkle's  Meadows,  above  the  lake  on 
Kern  River,  some  ninety  miles  above  Kern- 
ville.  The  waters  of  the  spring  were  deli- 
ciously  cool  and  refreshing. 
[92] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 
A  TRAMP  UP  A  MOUNTAIN. 

Next  morning  the  male  members  of  our 
party  started  up  a  steep  mountain  trail  to 
see  some  sequoias  I  had  heard  about.  Un- 
used as  we  were  to  excessive  exercise  and 
the  altitude,  the  climb  was  a  hard  one.  We 
ascended  from  four  thousand  feet  elevation 
to  over  seven  thousand  feet.  Most  of  the 
way  the  trail  was  through  heavy  fir  and  su- 
gar-pine. Going  up  Ave  ran  into  two  beautiful 
full-grown  deer,  a  buck  and  a  doe.  They  fled 
to  security  with  easy,  graceful  jumps,  into 
the  thick  underbrush.  We  heard  grouse 
drumming  loudly  in  two  or  three  different 
localities  and  saw  one  bird  make  a  long  dive 
from  one  pine  tree  to  another.  We  found 
wild  flowers  in  profusion,  of  the  same  vari- 
ety, fragrance  and  coloring  as  encountered 
in  the  canyon  the  day  before.  Just  as  we 
reached  the  summit,  we  found,  standing  on 
the  backbone  of  the  ridge — so  located  that 
rain  falling  on  it  would  flow  from  one  side 
of  it  into  one  water-shed,  and  from  the  other 
side  into  another  water-shed — a  great,  state- 
ly sequoia  gigantea  fully  three  hundred  feet 
high  and  of  immense  circumference.  There 
wasn't  a  branch  on  it  within  one  hundred 
feet  of  the  ground.  It  was  in  good  leaf,  ex- 
[93] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

eopt  at  the  top,  which  was  gnarled  and 
weather-beaten.  Its  base  had  been  cruelly 
burned.  This  tree  bears  a  striking  resemb- 
lance to  the  grizzly  giant  which  we  saw  later 
in  the  Mariposa  big  tree  grove  near  Wawo- 
na.  Not  far  from  this  tine  old  guardian  of 
the  pass,  were  groups  of  noble  trees,  fully  as 
tall,  but  not  as  large  as  the  one  described, 
but  perfect  trees,  erect,  stately,  and  impos- 
ing. The  bark  of  all  of  these  trees  was  very 
smooth  and  very  red,  much  more  highly  col- 
ored than  the  trees  in  the  Wawona  grove. 

I  was  too  much  fatigued  to  make  another 
mile  down  the  west  side  of  the  mountain  (we 
had  come  up  from  the  east)  to  inspect  a 
much  larger  grove  of  still  larger  trees.  Two 
of  the  younger  members  of  our  party,  my 
son  Francis  and  Harry  Graves,  our  chauf- 
feur, made  the  trip  while  Dr.  Macleish  and 
I  awaited  their  return  on  the  summit.  They 
came  back  enthusiastic  over  the  lower  groves, 
the  trees  there  being  much  more  numerous 
in  number  and  much  larger  in  size  than  the 
ones  we  first  ran  into.  We  sat  around  rest- 
ing a  while,  straining  our  necks  looking  for 
the  tops  of  those  trees,  all  of  which  were  way 
up  there  in  the  blue  sky.  We  wondered 
hr)w  many  years  thej^  had  been  there,  and 
[94] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

what  revolutions  in  climate  and  topograph- 
ical appearance  of  the  country  they  had 
witnessed.  Finally,  having  satiated  our- 
selves with  their  beauty,  we  started  on  the 
return  journey,  which  was  made  without  in- 
cident, except  that  we  disturbed  a  hen  grouse 
with  a  fine  brood  of  little  ones  about  the  size 
of  a  valley  quail. 

A   MOTHER   GROUSE. 

The  mother  bird  flew  into  a  scrub  oak. 
She  there  asserted  the  privilege  of  her  sex 
and  scolded  us  in  no  uncertain  tones.  When 
all  her  young  had  flitted  away  to  cover,  still 
scolding,  she  took  one  of  those  long  dives 
down  to  a  deep  dark  canyon,  fljdng  with  in- 
credil^le  rapidity,  and  apparently  not  mov- 
ing a  feather.  No  other  bird  I  ever  saw  can 
do  the  trick  as  a  grouse  does  it.  We  saw 
but  few  other  birds  on  this  excursion.  An 
occasional  blue- jay,  a  vagrant  bee-bird,  now 
and  then  a  robin,  and  once  in  a  while  a  most 
brilliantly  colored  oriole  made  up  the  list. 
Fluffy-tailed  gray  squirrels  chattered  at  us 
noisily  from  the  wayside  trees.  They  seemed 
bubbling  over  with  life  and  motion.  We 
stopped  at  the  Soda  Springs  for  a  life-giv- 
ing draught  of  its  refreshing  waters,  and 
were  back  to  camp  in  time  for  lunch. 
[95] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

FLIGHT  OF  LADY-BUGS. 

When  we  reached  the  Soda  Springs,  we 
met  the  most  remarkable  migration  of  red 
lady-bugs  that  I  ever  saw.  They  were  com- 
ing in  myriads  from  down  the  main  canyon 
and  each  side  canyon.  They  extended  in  a 
swarm  from  the  ground  to  a  distance  above 
it  of  from  ten  to  twelve  feet.  Huge  rocks 
would  be  covered  six  or  eight  inches  deep 
with  them.  Occasionally  they  would  light 
upon  a  tree,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  tree 
or  bush  would  be  absolutely  covered,  every 
speck  of  foliage  hidden.  It  was  difficult  to 
breathe  without  inhaling  them,  and  we  were 
kept  busy  brushing  them  from  our  faces  and 
clothes.  They  were  all  traveling  in  one  di- 
rection— dowTi  stream.  I  believe  that  they 
had  been  into  the  canyons  laying  their  eggs, 
and  were  returning  to  the  valleys.  All  af- 
ternoon the  flight  continued,  but  by  night- 
fall there  wasn't  a  lady-bug  in  sight. 

We  tried  fishing,  but  the  water  was  too 
liigli  and  too  turbulent  for  success  in  the 
sport. 

AUTO  REPAIRS  ARRIVE. 

About  two  o  'clock  that  afternoon  our  new 
floating  axle  and  fittings  had  arrived,  and 
[96] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

in  another  hour  the  car  was  set  up  and  ready 
for  business. 

The  following  morning  (Sunday)  we  bade 
Mr.  Hill  and  his  men  good-bye  and  started 
for  Crane  Valley.  The  drive  out  of  the 
canyon  was  a  beautiful  one.  We  did  not  go 
all  the  way  to  Porterville,  but  went  several 
miles  beyond  Springville,  turned  into  Fra- 
zier  Valley,  and  went  to  Visalia  by  way  of 
Lindsay  and  half  a  dozen  small  villages,  and 
from  there  on  to  Fresno,  which  place  we 
reached  at  about  two  o'clock.  The  ride  was 
a  hot  one.  We  drove  through  miles  and 
miles  of  orange  orchards,  some  in  full  bear- 
ing, but  mostly  recently  planted. 

FRESNO. 

We  left  Fresno  at  about  four-thirty 
o'clock  over  the  same  road  we  traveled  a 
year  before.  However,  before  crossing  the 
river,  we  turned  to  the  right  and  went  up 
through  a  town,  Pulaski,  where  we  crossed 
on  a  splendid  cement  bridge.  The  road  was 
pretty  badly  cut  up  from  heavy  teaming,  but 
we  got  to  Crane  Valley  about  ten  o'clock 
p.  m.  We  had  considerable  trouble  with  our 
carburetor  during  the  afternoon,  and  lost 
much  time  trying  to  locate  the  trouble,  but 
without  avail. 

[97] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

The  younger  members  of  the  party,  al- 
though the  hour  was  late,  went  to  prowling 
around  the  camp  for  something  to  eat.  They 
raided  the  cook's  pie  counter  in  the  dark. 
We  had  had  a  splendid  lunch  at  Fresno  at 
two  o'clock,  and  Mrs.  Graves  and  I  were  too 
tired  to  want  anything  to  eat,  and  retired  on 
our  arrival. 

CRANE  VALLEY. 

Since  our  visit  to  Crane  Valley  a  year  ago, 
we  found  that  the  then  uncompleted  dam 
was  finished.  Instead  of  a  small  reservoir 
of  water,  we  found  a  vast  inland  sea,  with 
water  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  deep  at  its 
deepest  part.  It  is  six  miles  long,  by  from 
half  to  one  mile  in  width.  It  is  twenty-five 
miles  in  circumference.  The  dam  proper  is 
nearly  two  thousand  feet  long,  and  at  one 
part  is  one  hundred  and  fifty-four  feet  high 
on  its  lower  side.  It  is  built  with  a  cement 
core,  with  rock  and  earth  fill,  above  and  be- 
low; that  is,  on  each  side  of  the  cement 
work.  The  inner  and  outer  surface  of  the 
dam  are  rock-covered.  To  give  you  an  idea 
of  its  capacity,  if  emptied  on  a  level  plain, 
its  waters  would  cover  forty-two  thousand 
acres  of  land  one  foot  deep.  When  we  were 
[98] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

there  a  discharge  gate  had  been  open  two 
weeks,  discharging  a  stream  of  water  two 
and  one-half  feet  deep,  over  a  weir  thirty- 
eight  feet  wide,  and  the  surface  of  the  reser- 
voir had  been  lowered  but  two  inches.  I 
say,  "All  hail  to  the  San  Joacpiin  Light  & 
Power  Company  and  its  enterprising  offi- 
cials, for  the  great  work  completed  by 
them."  It  is  a  public  benefactor  in  storing 
up,  for  gradual  discharge,  at  a  time  of  the 
year  when  it  could  do  no  good,  this  vast  body 
of  water  which  would  otherwise  run  to  the 
sea. 

What  a  place  for  rest  are  these  mountain 
valleys !  After  inspecting  the  dam,  catching 
some  bass  and  killing  a  rattlesnake,  w^e  were 
all  contented  to  sit  arovmd  for  the  remainder 
of  the  day.  A  certain  languor  takes  pos- 
session of  the  human  frame  when  one  has 
come  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  altitude.  One 
ceases  to  think,  his  mentality  goes  to  sleep, 
he  can  doze  and  dream  and  be  happy  in  do- 
ing so. 

AGAIN  ON  THE  ROAD. 

Tuesday  morning,  leaving  Mr.  Dougherty, 

the  Superintendent,  and  his  good  wife,  we 

started  for  Wawona.     We  traveled  up  the 

left  side  of  the  lake,  over  a  good  road,  above 

[99] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

the  water  level,  to  its  extreme  western  end. 
Here  we  climbed  a  mountain  to  an  elevation 
of  five  thousand  five  hundred  feet,  over  a 
cattle  trail  which  was  badly  washed  out,  to 
a  road  leading  to  Fresno  Flats.  This  place 
we  soon  reached  over  a  good  but  steep  road- 
bed. 

Then,  winding  in  and  out  of  the  canyon 
through  a  foothill  country,  we  made  steady 
progress  mitil  we  reached  the  main  road 
from  Ra}^nond  to  Wawona.  The  grade  was 
uphill  all  the  time.  We  left  the  lumbering 
camp  knoT^^a  as  Sugar  Pine  to  our  right. 
The  lumber  interests  have  made  a  sad  spec- 
tacle of  miles  and  miles  of  country,  recently 
heavily  forested.  There  seems  to  be  no  idea 
in  the  lumberman's  mind  of  saving  the 
young  growth  when  cutting  the  larger  tim- 
ber. All  the  young  growth  is  broken  down 
and  destroyed,  and  finally  burned  up  with 
the  brush  and  wreckage  of  the  larger  trees, 
leaving  the  mountain  side  scarred  and  black- 
ened, and  so  lye-soaked  that  immediate 
growth  of  even  brush  or  chaparral  is  im- 
possible. We  passed  through  Fish  Camp, 
and  in  a  short  time  came  to  the  toll-gate  at 
which  point  the  road  to  the  Mariposa  Grove 
of  big  trees  branches  off. 
[100] 


FERN     BRAKES     FOUR     1 


E     HILLS 


CALIFORNIA    WlilTE    OAK 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 
WAWONA. 

The  rest  of  the  run  to  Wawona  was  all 
downhill,  through  heavj^  timber,  over  a  good 
but  dusty  road.  We  reached  the  hotel  in 
tinie  for  lunch.  That  afternoon,  with  ]\Ir. 
Washburn,  we  took  a  drive  of  some  miles 
around  the  Big  Meadows,  near  the  hotel, 
went  up  the  river  and  took  in  all  points  of 
interest  in  the  neighborhood.  Wawona  Ho- 
tel is  pleasantly  located.  It  is  an  ideal  place 
to  rest.  There  inertia  creeps  into  the  sys- 
tem. You  avoid  all  unnecessary  exercise. 
You  are  ever  ready  to  drop  into  a  chair,  to 
listen  to  the  wind  sighing  through  the  trees, 
to  hear  the  river  singing  its  never  ending 
song,  to  watch  the  robins  and  the  black  birds 
and  the  orioles  come  and  go,  and  observe  the 
never-ending  coming  and  going  of  guests. 
Some  are  just  arriving  from  the  San  Joa- 
quin valley,  some  are  departing  to  it,  or 
coming  home  or  going  to  the  Yosemite,  or 
starting  off  or  coming  from  the  Big  Trees 
or  Signal  Peak.  You  eat  and  sleep  and  for- 
get the  cares  of  life,  forget  its  trouliles,  and 
smelling  the  incense  of  the  pines,  sleep  comes 
to  you  the  moment  your  head  touches  your 
pillow  and  lasts  unbrokenly  until  breakfast- 
time  the  next  day. 

[101] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

LOS  AXGELES  TEOrLE  KNOWN  EVERYWHEEE. 

We  took  passage  on  a  stage-coach  next 
morning  for  the  Wawona  big  trees.  The 
trip  is  one  ever  to  be  remembered.  The 
road  ^yinds  around  over  the  mountains,  al- 
ways ascending,  for  about  eight  miles.  The 
great  trees  are  scattered  over  quite  an  ex- 
panse of  territory.  A  technical  description 
of  them  would  be  out  of  place  here.  To 
realize  their  size  and  majesty  you  must  see 
them.  Many  are  named  after  prominent  men 
of  the  nations,  and  after  various  cities  and 
states  of  the  Union.  I  was  glad  to  see  the 
names  of  Los  Angeles  and  Pasadena  on  two 
magnificent  specimens.  We  drove  through 
the  trunk  of  a  standing  tree,  and  present 
herewith  a  picture  of  the  feat.  The  gentle- 
man on  the  left  on  the  rear  seat  is  a  Mr. 
Isham,  and  the  lady  and  gentleman  on  the 
same  seat  are  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Risley,  just 
returned  from  a  trip  around  the  world. 
They  are  from  the  same  city  in  the  east  as 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  W.  Jarvis  Barlow,  and  Mrs. 
Alfred  Solano  of  this  city,  to  whom  they  de- 
sired to  be  warmly  remembered.  Go  where 
you  will,  you  meet  someone  who  knows 
someone  in  Los  Angeles. 

Wo  lunched  in  the  open  air  at  the  big 
[102] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

trees,  and  made  the  return  trip  in  a  reverent 
mood,  almost  in  silence,  each  of  the  party 
given  over  to  his  or  her  reflections.  I  realize 
that  there  is  in  my  mind  an  ineffaceable 
mental  jjicture  of  those  gigantic  trees,  which 
are  so  tall,  so  large,  so  impressive  and  mas- 
sive that  they  overjjower  the  understanding. 

During  our  stay  at  Wawona  we  tried  fish- 
ing in  the  main  river,  which  was  swollen  to 
a  raging  torrent  by  the  melting  snows.  We 
found  it  so  discolored  and  so  turbulent  that 
fishing  was  not  a  success.  We  also  visited 
the  cascades.  An  innnense  body  of  water 
comes  down  a  rocky  gorge  very  precipitous- 
ly. From  one  rock  to  another  the  water 
dashes  with  an  awful  roar.  Mist  and  spray 
ascend  and  fall  over  a  considerable  area, 
keeping  the  trees  and  brush  and  grass  and 
ferns  dripping  wet,  and  it  would  soon  ren- 
der one's  clothing  exceedingly  uncomfort- 
able. 

WE  GO  TO  yose:mite  by  stage. 

It  is  twenty-six  miles  from  Wawona  to 
Yosemite  Valley.  The  stages  leave  Wawona 
at  eleven  thirty  a.  m.  to  make  the  trij:).  On 
June  sixteenth  we  took  our  places  with  some 
other  victuns  of  this  piece  of  transportation 
idiocv,  on  an  open  four-horse  stage  for 
[  103  ] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

Yosemite.  The  going  was  very  slow.  It  was 
liot  and  dusty,  and  we  soon  got  irritable  and 
uncomfortable.  Why  the  traveling  public 
should  be  subjected  to  this  outrage  is  beyond 
me.  We  ground  our  weary  way  over  the 
dust}^  road,  oblivious  to  the  scenery,  until 
six  o'clock,  when  we  suddenly  came  to  In- 
spiration Point,  our  first  view  of  the  great 
Valley. 

YOSEMITE  VALLEY. 

The  beauty  of  the  scene  to  some  extent 
compensated  us  for  a  beastly  ride.  Beyond 
us  lay  the  great  gorge  known  as  the  Yosem- 
ite. Below  us  the  Merced  River.  On  the 
left  were  Ribbon  Falls,  and  just  beyond 
them  El  Capitan.  On  our  right,  but  well 
in  front  of  us,  were  the  Bridal  Veil  Falls. 
We  were  just  in  time  to  see  that  wonderful 
rainbow  effect  for  which  they  are  celebrated. 
Surely  no  more  beautiful  sheet  of  water 
could  be  found  anywhere.  A  wonderful  vol- 
ume of  water  dashes  over  the  cliff,  unbroken 
by  intercepting  rocks,  and  drops  a  straight 
distance  of  six  hundred  feet.  Then  it  drops 
three  hundred  feet  more  in  dancing  cascades 
to  the  floor  of  the  valley  and  divides  up  into 
three  good-sized  streams  which  empty  into 
the  Merced  River.  When  once  started  on 
[104] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

its  downward  course,  the  water  seems 
all  spray.  At  the  bottom  of  the  first  six- 
hmidred-foot  descent  it  made  a  mighty 
shower  of  mist  like  escaping  steam  from  a 
giant  rift  in  some  titanic  boiler,  and  soon 
reached  the  floor  of  the  valley.  The  road 
from  El  Portal  comes  up  on  the  north  side 
of  the  river.  We  passed  El  Capitan,  which 
rears  its  massive  head  three  thousand  three 
hundred  feet  in  the  distance,  perpendicu- 
larly above  the  river.  We  were  shown  the 
pine  tree,  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high, 
growing  out  of  a  rift  in  the  rocks  on  its 
perpendicular  face,  more  than  two-thirds 
of  the  distance  from  its  base.  The  tree 
looked  to  us  like  a  rose  bush,  not  two  feet 
high,  in  a  garden. 

As  we  proceeded  up  the  Valley  there  were 
pointed  out  to  us  the  Three  Brothers,  a 
triple  group  of  rocks,  three  thousand  eight 
hundred  feet  high.  Cathedral  Spire,  Sen- 
tinel Rock,  Yosemite  and  Lost  Arrow  Falls, 
and  all  the  other  points  of  interest  that  can 
be  seen  on  entering  the  Valley. 

The  river  was  abnormally  high — higher 

we  were  told,  than  it  had  been  in  many  years. 

It  flowed  with  great  rapidity,  as  if  hurrying 

out  of  the  valley  to  join  the  flood  waters 

[105] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

which  had  alread}^  submerged  many  acres  of 
hind  in  the  San  Joaquin  valley,  miles  below. 
It  looked  dark  and  wicked,  as  if  it  carried 
certain  death  in  its  cold  embrace.  Half  of 
the  Yosemite  valley  was  flooded.  Meadows, 
rich  in  natural  grasses,  were  knee  deep  with 
back  water. 

We  reached  the  Sentinel  Hotel,  and 
sloughing  off  the  most  of  the  fine  emery-like 
mountain  dust  with  which  we  were  envel- 
oped, we  got  our  first  good  look  at  the  Yo- 
semite Falls.  They  were  at  their  best. 
Imagine  a  large  river,  coming  over  a  cliff, 
a  seething,  foaming  mass  of  spray,  and  drop- 
ping, in  two  descents,  two  thousand  six  hun- 
dred and  thirty-four  feet,  sending  heaven- 
ward great  clouds  of  mist !  I  took  one  look, 
then  looked  up  the  Valley  to  the  great  Half 
Dome,  to  Glacier  Point,  from  there  to  Sen- 
tinel Peak  and  the  Cathedral  Spires,  and  I 
concluded  that  the  Yosemite  is  too  beautiful 
for  description,  too  sublime  for  comprehen- 
sion and  too  magnificent  for  immediate  hu- 
man understanding.  In  the  presence  of 
those  awful  cliffs,  towering,  with  an  average 
height  of  over  three  thousand  feet,  above  the 
floor  of  the  valley;  those  immense  water- 
falls, as  they  thundered  over  the  canyon 
[106] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

walls ;  that  mad  river,  gathering  their  united 
flow  into  one  embrace,  scurrying  away  with 
an  irresistible  energy  that  almost  sweeps 
you  off  your  feet  as  you  look  at  it,  all  things 
human  seem  to  shrink  into  the  infinitesimal. 
You  do  not  ask  yourself,  "How  did  all  this 
get  here?"  You  accept  the  situation  as  you 
find  it.  You  leave  it  to  the  scientists  to  dis- 
pute whether  the  valley  was  formed  wholly 
by  glacial  action  or  by  some  gigantic  con- 
vulsion of  nature,  which  tore  its  frowning 
cliffs  apart,  leaving  the  Valley  rough,  un- 
finished and  uncouth  to  the  gentle,  molding 
hand  of  Time  to  smootli  it  up  and  beautify 
its  floor  witli  its  iDresent  growth  of  oaks  and 
pines  and  shrub  and  bush  and  ferns  and 
vines,  and  laughing,  running  waters. 

You  are  four  thousand  feet  above  sea- 
level.  All  around  you  cliffs  and  walls  tower 
three  thousand  feet  and  upwards  above  you. 
Back  of  these  are  still  liigher  peaks,  whole 
mountain  ranges,  clothed  in  their  snowy 
mantles,  this  season  far  beyond  their  usual 
time.  The  air  is  delightful,  pure  as  the  wa- 
ters of  the  Yosemite  Falls,  soft  as  a  carpet 
of  pine  needles  to  the  foot-fall,  balmy  as  the 
breath  of  spring,  and  cool  and  invigorating. 
[107] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

THE  VALLEY  OVERFLOWING  WITH  VISITORS. 

The  valley  is  full  of  people;  the  hotels 
crowded,  the  camps  overflowing.  From 
early  dawn  until  the  setting  summer  sun  has 
cast  long  shadows  over  meadow  and  stream 
alike,  there  is  a  moving  mass  of  restless  peo- 
ple, either  moimted  on  horseback,  in  vehicles 
or  on  foot,  going  out  or  coming  in  from  the 
trails  and  side  excursions.  The  walker 
seemed  to  get  the  most  fun  out  of  life.  Man 
and  woman  are  alike  khaki  clad  and  sun- 
burned to  a  berry-brown.  They  walk  with 
the  easy  grace  of  perfect  strength  and  long 
practice,  and  think  nothing  of  "hiking"  to 
the  top  of  Yosemite  Falls  or  Sentinel  Peak 
and  back.  One  of  the  favorite  trips  is  to 
Glacier  Point  by  the  Illilouette,  Vernal  and 
Nevada  Falls,  a  distance  of  eleven  miles, 
remaining  there  all  night  at  a  comfortable 
inn  and  returning  by  a  shorter  route  by  Sen- 
tinel Peak. 

Looking  up  between  the  rocky  walls  of 
the  valley,  how  far  away  the  stars  all  looked 
at  night!  In  that  pure  atmosphere,  how 
beautiful  the  sky!  How  perfect  each  con- 
stellation! Each  star  with  peculiar  bright- 
ness shone.  One's  view  of  the  sky  is  cir- 
cumscribed by  the  height  of  the  cliffs.  In- 
[108] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

stead  of  the  great  arched  vault  of  heaven 
one  usually  looks  up  to,  one  sees  only  that 
part  of  the  sky  immediately  above  the  val- 
ley. It  was  like  looking  at  the  heavens  from 
the  bottom  of  a  deep,  narrow  shaft.  I  looked 
in  vain  for  well  known  beacon  lights.  They 
were  not  in  sight.  The  towering  cliffs  shut 
them  out.  The  sky  looked  strange  to  me, 
yet  how  beautiful  it  was !  Through  the  gath- 
ering darkness  we  took  one  more  look  at  the 
Yosemite  Falls  and  betook  ourselves  to  bed, 
to  sleep  the  sleep  once  enjoyed  in  the  long 
ago,  when  as  children  we  returned,  tired  but 
happy,  from  some  long  outing  in  the  Avoods. 

WE  VISIT  THE  FLOOR  OF  THE  VALLEY. 

On  the  following  morning  we  took  in  the 
sights  of  the  floor  of  the  valley.  We  rode 
to  Mirror  Lake,  which,  however,  did  not 
come  up  to  its  reputation.  This  summer  the 
entrance  to  the  lake  has  changed  its  channel 
from  its  west  to  its  east  side,  and  a  long 
sand  bar  has  been  deposited  in  the  lake 
proper,  all  of  which  our  guide  told  us  marred 
the  reflections  usually  visible  therein. 

We  passed  hundreds  of  people  of  all  ages 
wallving  through  the  valley.  In  visiting  the 
Yosemite  you  do  not  realize  that  the  valley 

[  109  ] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

is  several  miles  long,  and  has  an  average 
width  of  about  one-half  a  mile.  The  great 
height  of  the  surrounding  walls  dwarfs  your 
idea  of  distance.  Even  the  trees,  many  of 
which  are  of  great  size,  look  small  and  puny. 

THE  HAPPY  ISLES. 

We  drove  to  the  Happy  Isles,  small  islands 
covered  with  trees,  around  which  the  river 
surges  in  foaming  masses.  Standing  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  one  of  the  Happy  Isles, 
one  gets  a  splendid  impression  of  the  cas- 
cade effect  of  the  waters,  rushing  madly 
down  a  steep  rocky  channel,  with  an  irresis- 
tible, terrifying  force.  The  descent  of  the 
bed  of  the  stream  is  very  marked.  The  wa- 
ters come  over  submerged,  rocky  masses. 
Just  as  you  think  that  maddened  torrent 
must  sweep  over  the  island,  engulfing  you 
in  its  course,  the  stream  divides,  half  of  it 
passing  to  the  right,  and  half  to  the  left. 
These  divided  waters  unite  again  farther 
down  the  valley. 

On  our  return  from  this  short  excursion, 
Francis,  Dr.  Macleish  and  Harry,  taking 
their  lunch  with  them,  walked  up  to  the  top 
of  the  Yosemite  Falls.  They  stood  beneath 
the  fiag  at  Yosemite  Point  and  got  a  compre- 

[HO] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

hensive  view  of  the  entire  valley.    They  re- 
ported the  trip  a  heart-breaking  one. 

MILITAKY  GOVERNMENT. 

The  valley  has  a  military  government. 
What  Major  Forsyth  says  goes.  There  are 
no  saloons  in  the  Yosemite,  nor  are  there  any 
cats.  The  Major  saw  a  cat  catch  a  young 
gray  squirrel.  He  issued  an  edict  that  the 
cats  must  go  or  be  killed.    They  went. 

EXCURSION  TO  GLACIER  POINT. 

The  next  day  all  of  our  party,  except  Mrs. 
Graves,  who  had  made  the  journey  some 
years  before,  went  to  the  top  of  Glacier 
Point.  We  took  a  stage  to  the  Happy  Isles 
and  there  mounted  mules  for  the  trail.  The 
climb  is  a  steady  one.  Soon  we  got  our  first 
view  of  the  Vernal  Falls.  To  my  mind  they 
are  the  most  perfect  waterfalls  in  the  Val- 
ley. The  water  flows  over  the  cliffs  an  un- 
broken mass,  one  hundred  feet  wide.  The 
initial  drop  is  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet. 
The  effect  can  not  be  imagined  by  one  who 
has  not  seen  the  actual  descent  of  this  great 
mass  of  water.  The  emerald  pond  above 
the  falls,  in  which  the  waters  assmne  an  em- 
erald hue,  and  appear  to  seek  a  momentary 
[111] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

rest  before  taking  the  final  plunge  over  the 
cliffs,  is  one  of  the  Valley's  beauty  spots. 
The  roar  of  the  falling  waters,  striking  the 
rocks  below,  is  loud  and  reverberating. 
Great  clouds  of  spray  and  mist  float  off  in 
falling  masses,  appearing  more  like  smoke 
than  water. 

After  passing  Vernal  Falls  you  come  to 
the  Diamond  Cascades.  They  are  below  the 
Nevada  Falls.  The  long  flowing  waters 
from  the  Nevada  Falls  have  cut  a  channel 
deep  into  the  bed  rock.  You  cross  this  chan- 
nel on  a  bridge.  Under  and  below  the  bridge 
the  water  flows  with  such  velocity  that  great 
volumes  of  it  are  hurled  into  the  air  in  long 
strings,  one  succeeding  the  other.  The  sun- 
light on  these  strings  of  water  makes  them 
flash  like  diamonds.  The  effect  is  as  if  some 
one  were  sowing  diamonds  by  the  bushel 
above  the  water.  A  similar  effect  is  noticed, 
though  not  so  pronounced,  just  above  the 
Nevada  Falls.  The  latter  are  something  like 
a  mile  above  Vernal  Falls.  They  are  six 
hundred  feet  high.  They  seem  to  come  over 
the  cliff  like  the  Yosemite  Falls,  through  a 
broken  or  distorted  lip,  and  the  water  is 
lashed  to  foam  and  looks  for  all  the  world 
like  the  smoke  of  some  mighty  conflagration, 
[112] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

upon  which  a  score  of  modern  fire  engines 
are  playing.  Near  the  top  of  the  Nevada 
Falls  is  a  fir  tree  more  than  ten  feet  in 
diameter,  said  to  be  the  largest  tree  in  the 
Yosemite  Valley.  Just  above  the  falls  we 
again  crossed  the  river  on  a  bridge.  Near 
the  bridge,  on  the  rocks  is  plain  evidence 
of  glacial  scourings.  A  glacial  deposit  is 
left  in  patches  on  the  rocks  which  is  today 
as  smooth  as  plate  glass. 

ABANDONED  EAGLE 'S  NEST. 

Above  Vernal  Falls  we  skirted  the  base 
and  climbed  partly  around  the  side  of  Li- 
berty Cap,  one  of  the  great  granite  domes 
of  the  valley,  until  we  reached  the  top  of 
the  cliff  over  which  the  Nevada  Falls  plunge. 
Well  up  on  the  side  of  this  cliff,  in  an  inac- 
cessible retreat,  our  guide,  who  had  trav- 
ersed this  route  for  twenty-two  years, 
showed  me  an  ancient  but  now  abandoned 
eagle's  nest.  The  noble  birds,  in  late  years, 
not  liking  the  coming  of  the  thousands  of 
excursionists  who  passed  that  ^\a.y  daily, 
forsook  their  home  for  some  other  locality. 

The  trail  now  winds  around  the  mountain- 
sides, finally  crossing  the  canyon  above  the 
Illilouette  Falls.  In  a  short  time  we  are  at 
[113] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

Glacier  Point.  As  you  go  out  to  the  iron 
railing  erected  on  the  outer  edge  of  a  flat 
rock  on  the  extreme  edge  of  the  cliff,  and 
look  down  into  the  valley  below  you,  you 
can  not  help  a  shrinking  feeling,  and  you 
are  only  too  glad  soon  to  move  back  and  get 
a  view  from  safer  quarters. 

OVERHANGING  ROCK. 

The  celebrated  overhanging  rock  is  at  this 
point.  It  is  a  piece  of  granite,  say  four  or 
five  feet  wide,  flat  on  top,  but  with  rounding 
edges.  It  sticks  out  from  the  cliff  several 
feet.  Foolhardy  people  walk  out  to  the  edge 
of  it  and  make  their  bow  to  imaginary  audi- 
ences over  three  thousand  feet  below.  One 
of  the  guides  with  our  party,  wearing  heavy 
"chaps"  (bear-skin  overalls)  walked  out 
upon  this  rock,  took  off  his  hat,  waved  it 
over  his  head,  posed  for  his  photograph, 
even  took  a  jig  step  or  two,  stood  on  one  foot 
and  peered  into  the  abyss  below  with  appar- 
ent unconcern.  Earlier  in  life  I  might  have 
taken  a  similar  chance,  but  it  would  be  a 
jjhysical  impossibility  for  me  to  do  it  now. 
We  feasted  our  eyes  on  the  magnificent  view. 

We  were  now  nearly  level  with  the  Half 
Dome  (our  elevation  was  seven  thousand  one 
[114] 


NEVADA     FALLS     FROM     GLACIER  NEVADA     FALLS.     CLOSE 

POINT    UPPER     YOSEMITE  RANGE     YOSEMITE      FALLS 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

hundred  feet),  below  us  the  beautiful  valley 
with  its  winding  river,  bright  meadows  and 
stately  forests.  Horses  staked  out  on  the 
meadow  looked  like  dogs;  people,  like  ants. 
The  Yosemite,  Vernal,  Nevada  and  Illilou- 
ette  Falls,  Mirror  Lake,  the  roaring  cascades 
above,  the  Happy  Isles,  all  the  peaks  of  the 
upper  end  of  the  Valley,  and  mountains  for 
miles  and  miles  beyond,  snow-capped  and 
storm-swept,  were  in  plain  sight. 

After  an  appetizing  lunch  at  the  hotel,  we 
took  the  short  trail  for  the  valley.  It  is 
three  and  a  half  miles  long,  almost  straight 
up  and  down,  and  is  hard  riding  or  walking. 
But  the  journey  was  soon  ended,  and  that 
night  we  again  slept  the  sleep  of  the  joy- 
ously tired. 

Morning  came  too  soon,  ushering  in  an- 
other perfect  mountain  day.  We  simply 
loafed  around,  never  tiring  of  looking  at  the 
river  or  falls  in  sight,  or  the  everlasting 
cliifs  above  us.  We  put  in  an  hour  or  two 
watching  a  moving-picture  outfit  photo- 
graphing imitation  Indians. 

VIEWS  THROUGH  A  ^'' CLAUDE  LOREAINE  GLASS."" 

That  evening  as  the  daylight  waned,  while 
sky  and  stream,  trees,  mountains  and  jagged 
peaks  were  still  gloriously  tinted  witli  the 
[  115 ]  ' 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

sun's  last  rays,  Mr.  Chris.  Jorgenson,  the 
artist,  brought  out  a  '^  Claude  Lorraine 
glass."  We  stood  upon  the  bridge  of  the 
]\Ierced  river  and  caught  upon  the  glass  the 
Half  Dome,  bathed  in  mellow  light ;  the  Yo- 
semite  Falls  with  its  great  mass  of  falling 
waters  exquisitely  illuminated;  Sentinel 
Peak,  the  swiftly  moving  river  fringed  with 
green  trees,  the  grassy  meadows  and  the 
fleecy  clouds.  The  picture  of  reflected 
beauty  so  produced,  such  tints  and  colors, 
such  glints  of  stream  and  forest,  such  a  glo- 
rified reproduction  of  the  beauties  of  the 
Valley  can  only  be  imagined,  they  can  not 
be  described. 

There  were  enough  Los  Angeles  people  in 
the  Yosemite  at  the  time  to  have  voted  a 
bond  issue.  They  were  all  out  for  a  good 
time,  and  were  having  it. 

OUR  RETIJRN  TO  WAWONA. 

Not  wishing  to  undergo  the  torture  of  the 
noon-day  ride  back  to  Wawona,  a  party  of 
us  chartered  a  stage  to  leave  the  Valley  at 
six  o'clock  a.  m.  We  got  off  next  morning 
at  six-forty  and  had  a  delightful  drive,  mak- 
ing Wawona  before  noon.  Thus  a  few  hours' 
difference  in  the  time  of  starting  made  a 
[116] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

pleasure  of  what  otherwise  would  have  been 
a  torment.  While  we  were  in  the  Valley 
some  Los  Angeles  friends  had  arrived  at 
Wawona  and  were  in  camp  near  the  hotel. 

SIGNAL  PEAK. 

We  rested  at  Wawona  several  days.  Dur- 
ing one  of  these  I  went  with  the  boys  on 
horseback  to  Signal  Peak,  whose  elevation 
is  seven  thousand  and  ninety-three  feet. 
The  San  Joaquin  valley  w^as  enveloped  in 
haze,  but  the  mountain  ranges  east  of  us 
were  in  plain  sight.  We  could  see  all  the 
peaks  from  Tallac  at  Lake  Tahoe  to  Mt. 
Whitney.  Mt.  Ritter,  Mt.  Dana,  Mt.  Hamil- 
ton, Galen  Clarke,  Star  King,  Lyell,  the 
Gale  Group,  and  others  whose  names  I  do 
not  now  recall,  stood  out  in  bold  relief,  en- 
cased in  snowy  mantles.  The  view  from  Sig- 
nal Peak  is  well  wortli  the  trip.  We  enjoyed 
it  so  much  that  we  persuaded  Mrs.  Graves 
and  some  ladies  to  take  it  next  day  by  car- 
riage, which  is  easily  done. 

On  June  twenty-third  the  boys  went  to 
Empire  Meadows,  some  eleven  miles  dis- 
tant, with  a  fishing  party.  They  had  fair 
luck,  the  entire  party  taking  nearly  two 
hundred  eastern  brook  trout. 
[117] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

HOMEWARD  BOUND. 

On  the  morning  of  June  twenty-fourth,  at 
six  o'clock,  we  started  on  our  homeward 
journey.  We  had  carburetor  trouble  com- 
ing up — we  still  had  it  going  out,  until  at 
last  our  driver  discovered  that  one  of  the 
insulating  wires  had  worn  through  its  cov- 
ering and,  coming  in  contact  with  metal, 
had  resulted  in  a  short  circuit.  When  this 
was  remedied  our  troubles  were  over,  and 
our  machine  performed  handsomely.  The 
first  forty-four  miles  to  Raymond  were  all 
downhill,  over  a  very  rough  road,  with  sharp 
turns  and  depressions  every  one  hundred 
feet  or  so,  to  allow  the  rain-water  to  run 
off  of  the  road,  which  rendered  the  going 
very  slow.  We  were  three  hours  and  a  half 
reaching  Ra^nnond.  Passing  this  point  we 
sped  into  Madera,  then  to  Firebaugh.  Dur- 
ing the  morning  we  saw  a  stately  pair  of 
wild  pigeons  winging  their  swift  flight  in 
and  out  of  some  tall  pine  trees. 

WATER  HIGH  IN  SAN  JOAQUIN  VALLEY. 

The  San  Joaquin  river  was  Yevj  high  and 
had  overflowed  thousands  of  acres  of  land. 
Our  road,  slightly  elevated,  passed  for  miles 
through  an  inland  sea.  To  reach  Los  Banos, 
we  made  a  wide  detour  to  the  left.  We 
[118] 


CEDAR  CREEK  AT  PINE  HILLS 


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THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

crossed  the  Paclieco  Pass  into  the  Santa 
Clara  A'alley.  We  had  intended  to  go  to 
Hollister  by  way  of  San  Felipe.  Some  three 
miles  from  the  latter  place  we  saw  a  sign 
reading  "Hollister  nine  miles."  We  took 
the  road  indicated  and  must  have  saved  six 
or  seven  miles. 

HOLLISTER. 

This  portion  of  the  country  is  largely 
given  over  to  fruit  growing  and  raising 
flower  and  garden  seed,  acres  and  acres  of 
which  were  in  full  bloom,  and  the  mingled 
colors  were  exceedingly  channing.  We 
reached  Hollister  in  good  time,  one  hundred 
and  seventy  miles  from  Wawona.  We  found 
good  accommodations  at  the  Hotel  Hartman. 
Bright  and  early  next  morning  we  were  off. 
We  went  due  west.  We  found  the  bridge 
over  the  Pajaro  river  utterly  destroyed  by 
last  winter's  rains.  We  crossed  through  the 
bed  of  the  stream  without  difficulty  and  were 
soon  upon  the  main  road  to  Salinas,  just 
below  San  Juan.  As  we  ascended  the  San 
Juan  hills,  we  paused  at  a  turn  in  the  road 
and  got  a  view  of  the  beautiful  valley  in 
which  Hollister  lies.  No  more  peaceful 
landscape  ever  greeted  mortal  eye.  Every 
[  119  ] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

acre  as  far  as  one  could  see,  not  devoted  to 
pasturage,  was  cultivated.  There  were 
grain  and  hay  fields,  orchards  by  the  mile, 
and  the  seed  farms  in  full  bloom,  while 
cattle  and  horses  grazed  peacefully  in  many 
pastures.  We  turned  away  with  regret  at 
leaving  a  land  so  beautiful,  so  happy  and 
contented  looking. 

' '  THE  FERRYMAN. ' ' 

At  Salinas  river  we  found  a  man  with  a 
good-sized  team  of  horses,  who,  for  one  dol- 
lar and  fifty  cents,  hauled  us  through  a  little 
water  which  we  could  have  crossed  without 
difficulty,  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  loose, 
shifting  sand  which  we  could  never  have 
crossed  without  his  aid.  He  has  a  tent  in 
which  he  has  lived  since  last  winter,  and  he 
gets  them  "coming  and  going,"  as  no  ma- 
chine can  negotiate  that  stretch  of  road  un- 
assisted. He  earns  his  money,  and  I  wish 
him  well. 

FINE  RUN  TO  LOS  OLIVOS. 

Taking  out  the  time  spent  at  lunch  and  in 

taking  on  gasoline,  we  reached  Los  Olivos, 

two  hundred  and  thirty-one  miles  from  Hol- 

lister,  in  eleven  hours'  running  time.    We 

[120] 


THROUGH     THE     SIERRAS 

again  had  good  accommodations  at  Los 
Olivos  and  were  off  next  morning  on  the 
final  "leg"  of  our  journey.  The  road  from 
the  north  side  of  Gaviote  Pass  to  within  a 
few  miles  of  Santa  Barbara  is  a  disgrace  to 
Santa  Barbara  county.  I  prefer  the  valley 
route  with  its  heat  to  the  coast  route,  and  I 
warn  all  automobilists  to  avoid  the  latter 
route. 

We  had  a  good  lunch  at  Shepherd's  Inn, 
and  then  ran  home  in  time  for  dinner.  We 
came  by  Calabasas,  and  just  before  we 
reached  the  Cahuenga  Pass  we  turned  off 
and  went  through  Lankershim  on  our  waj^ 
to  Alhambra.  We  all  remarked  that  in  no 
section  of  the  state  we  had  visited  did  the 
trees  look  as  healthy,  the  alfalfa  as  lux- 
uriant, the  garden  truck  as  vigorous,  as  they 
did  at  Lankershim.  Every  inch  of  the 
ground  there  is  cultivated;  there  are  no 
waste  spots. 

'^"home  again. ^' 

Home  looked  better  and  dearer  to  us  when 
we  reached  it  than  it  ever  did  before.  We 
had  traveled  one  thousand  and  forty-five 
miles  and  used  on  the  trip  one  hundred  and 
four  gallons  of  gasoline,  thus  averaging  over 
[121] 


OUT     OF     DOORS 

all  sorts  of  roads,  including  several  moun- 
tain ranges,  a  little  better  than  ten  miles  to 
the  gallon.  I  defy  any  six  cylinder  car  in 
America  to  beat  this  record.  I  used  the 
same  old  Franklin  car,  in  which  I  have  made 
four  tours  of  California.  I  have  no  apology 
to  offer  for  breaking  the  drive-shaft.  The 
parts  of  any  car  will  stand  just  so  much. 
Pass  this  point  and  trouble  ensues.  This 
grand  old  car  has  run  over  eighty  thousand 
miles  and  seen  much  hardship.     I  salute  it ! 


THE   END. 


[122] 


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University  of  California 

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Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


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